Kept Souls
by insightfuldamon
Summary: Damon and Elena are two sides of the same coin, both victims of extreme abuse, except at 18, Damon has the freedom and means to leave their neighborhood, while Elena, young, poor, and vulnerable, escapes one hell only to be trapped in another by the most powerful man in the world. Years later, their paths cross again and though they've both changed, their story is very much alive.
1. Chapter 1

Note from the author: Hey everyone! If you haven't seen on twitter, I spilled champagne on my computer on New Year's Eve, destroying my computer. I haven't been able to get a new computer, but I cannot stop writing, so I decided to start a new fic on my iPad. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a new computer soon so I can complete my other fics. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one.

*WARNING* This is a dark romance, not for the faint of heart. Though it will always be completely consensual between Damon and Elena, there is rape and abuse in this story.

Chapter 1

Cold sand encased my ankles like cement, weighing me down, making me immovable. Water lapped at my calves as I sank deeper and deeper, the pull of the current moving in and out with the rhythm of the waves crashing and drawing back. The hem of my torn white nightgown stuck to my small lithe body as I stood facing the crescent moon, always looking toward the horizon of endless waves, and never back to that cold small cottage, surrounded by a couple of other small homes in a cul de sac, in Rusty Beach, a small town in the middle of fields of tall grass and wild strawberries that stain your lips the color of blood, but were your only nourishment when you were so hungry, you feared your insides would rebel with a roar of frustration.

I dreamed of being like the mermaid in that fairytale, the one who dreamed of living on solid warm land and not drowning in the depths of loneliness, swimming in an endless pool of nothing, tied to a fate of isolation, in a prison of her own making.

"Elena?" A voice called, familiar and warm. "Jesus, you look like you've been out here for hours."

A leather jacket draped over my shoulders, firm hands made sure it stayed on. She can't speak in the fairytale, and I wonder if maybe I'm her. Always looking toward the unattainable. Love, warmth, family, affection, happiness were all an illusion. If I spoke, would he disappear? If I turn around, I know how the boy that lived in our neighborhood would look. I spent hours from the small cracked basement window watching him. Watching him dodge the beer bottle thrown at his head as he ran out of the house. Watching him tend to his brother's wounds on the driveway, behind his car. Watching him leave for school with a black eye, or split lip, but walking like he owned it, was proud of his ability to survive. He had hope. A foreign concept.

If I turned around right now, he'd run a hand through his wild dark raven hair, his clear glass blue eyes would penetrate me, reading every thought, knowing my darkest secrets. Except that'd be an illusion too, because he didn't know, my uncle was too cleaver, too careful.

Damon would be wearing a white shirt and dark jeans that hung low, stained with grease from working on his car. He's older, much older, eighteen and getting ready to leave home for the marines. He got to escape.

Arms picked me up, cradled me, I nestled my head in his chest, seeking warmth, seeking the soothing rhythm of his heart. He tenderly brushed the sand from my feet. "Where do you want to go?"

Anywhere but to that house.

Anywhere.

Anywhere.

As long as your there. As long as it's your arms holding me captive and not his.

I kept my face tucked in his chest, staying silent like that girl in the fairytale, afraid he'd disappear.

But his feet carried him down the familiar path that I'd run from. I could hear the sand turn to gravel, turn to dirt, turn to pavement. The air smelled different, acrid.

And then.

"Damon, what are you doing with her? You know Dad will flip."

The sobs came, chocking me from the inside. Don't leave me. Don't take me back.

"She's not safe there," Damon said. "We can't leave her there."

"Dad will kill us, Damon. He's friends with Marcus."

"I am not taking her back!" Damon shouted. "End of."

I could feel him bending over, laying me down on a scratchy surface, but I clawed at his shirt. Don't let go. If he let go, I knew he'd leave me forever. I knew I'd never see him again. Those cool blue eyes that could cut down anyone with a look, that darkened to grey and clouded with anger. Those possessive eyes, always watching, always ready for a fight.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "I'm not leaving."

A soft mew escaped my lips. Bubbled up from a place I didn't know existed. A place under lock and key.

My eyes peaked out from the safety of his chest. His eyes looked into mine, his hand ran fingers through my chestnut hair, brushing it out of my face. "There she is," he cooed.

My eyes met his, memorized his face, his furrowed brow, his long eyelashes, the cheekbones that could cut glass. He looked concerned but determined.

"You leave tomorrow," his brother said. "You're getting out. You keep her here, you'll never be able to leave or worse, you're both dead."

He didn't waver. "I'm keeping her."

Keeping me? I sighed, tears streamed down my face. Maybe this was a fairytale and I was safe. Even if I wasn't a princess, maybe I was worthy and not the piece of trash Uncle Marcus called me so often.

"You're mine," he muttered. "I'll keep you safe."

I nodded, like I understood. He never saw me in that way, I was like a kicked puppy he was trying to rescue. And maybe he saw his own pain reflected in my eyes. We were connected by circumstance, he was the tide that pulled me in and I was the current pulling him under. As soon as I nodded an affirmation, he let go, leaving me on the scratchy orange couch in his garage, and like trying to hold onto sand, I felt him slip away between my fingers, grain by grain, bit by bit.

"I'm going to get the stash," Damon said. "Watch her."

I shook my head. No, no, don't go.

"I'll be back soon," he promised.

He left, and suddenly it was cold again and I was back in the basement.

Stefan paced the garage, muttering to himself, then as if he decided something, he strode over to me and tried to pick me up. My arms flailed and my legs kicked air. I knew what he was going to do, but I had to wait. I had to wait for Damon to come back. "You need to get out of here or we're both dead, you got that?" He said.

I shook my head.

"Damon will die. He has a future ahead of him, don't ruin that."

Stefan dug into his pockets and pulled out a twenty. He stuck it in my clenched fist. "Go! My dad has a gun and he's looking for an excuse to use it. Go!"

Damon had a future. Damon needed to stay safe. I couldn't compromise that, because this wasn't a fairytale, this was my sad cold life and maybe Damon, the boy with steel grey eyes, maybe he could survive and live to tell the tale.

I got up and ran out of the garage door, but I didn't run back to my cottage, I ran until my feet bled, into the city. I'd live on the streets before I'd ever go back.

XXX

Six Years Later

My uncle said that I was good for one thing, I was a warm body with holes and no gag reflex. That was my price for a bed and food, I earned it with my body and when I refused, I was locked up and starved. When he was mad, lost money in poker, or was fired from one of the many jobs he had, he locked me up. I was his dead asshole brother's kid. I should've died in the car accident that killed my dad, mom, and baby brother. So he used me and in order to avoid the basement, I learned to keep my mouth shut.

Wearing a black mini dress I found off of a prostitute that od'd behind a seedy club, I slink through the alley in downtown Mystic Falls, trying to find scraps of food. Seeing a fresh trash bag in the alley outside of an Italian restaurant that served warm garlic bread and meatballs the size of your face, I dash to the bag and peel it open, hoping to beat the mice. The familiar feeling of despair consumes me, but even so, I don't cry when I see that it's onion scraps and raw fat from meat, I don't cry when my stomach clenches with hunger so deep, I doubt the organ can still function. I haven't cried since the day Damon held me to his chest. Not even when I sucked a fat man's cock for the first time near a dumpster and he threw pennies at me after I spat out his come. Not after being kicked in the stomach for refusing to take it up the ass. Crying made it all real and permanent, crying made me weak.

Too weak to move, I lay on the cold cement, looking at the crescent moon, stars literally blinking before my eyes. This was it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Quick, one breath in, and one escaping out of my mouth and into the heavens above. Suddenly, I felt someone there, in the alley with me. The clipping of footsteps came closer, hurried. I attempted to drag myself further behind a dumpster. Easy prey didn't get paid.

Another set of footsteps. More calm and confident.

"Sir, I didn't know. I didn't know they'd be there," a voice begged. This wasn't a simple plea, this was the sound of someone asking to live. The choice was no longer his but in the hands of someone more powerful.

A heavy disappointed sigh, and then a shot rang through the air. Startled, a mouse squeaked from its hiding spot and scuttled across the alley. My eyes tracked its path, realizing only too late that my legs were exposed. I commanded my legs to tuck in, but they wouldn't move. Footsteps came closer, but leisurely slow, as one would approach a wild rabbit. I could see him, cold and calculating, wearing a grin. Caught.

"Well what do we have here?" He cooed in a foreign accent. "A present, just for me."

Sandpaper coated my mouth, unable to speak. I shook my head and tried to shirk back. I didn't have the energy to run or give oral. I wish he'd just shoot me and get it over with. He could use my body after he gave me the gift of death.

He knelt down beside me, studying my body, trailing his gun up my calf, lazily over my knee, down my thigh, he flipped up the hem of my dress and grazed the gun slowly over my naked sex. "You skin blooms," he commented. "I wonder what would happen if I..."

I sucked in breath as he used the gun to trail my sex. I did not want this, I did not want this man or his gun anywhere near me but it didn't matter, my uncle was right I was only good for the three holes I had because my traitorous body always was prepared and clenched as he used the tip of the gun to trace my clit.

"No tears?" He observed.

I may not have been able to move, but my eyes glared at him. He would not see me cry. I would not give him the satisfaction.

"No fear?" He took his index finger and inserted it in me, still using the gun to probe my clit. I sucked in breath, my cheeks flushed because of what he'd find. I did not want this, I didn't want this with him or in the middle of the alleyway on the bad part of town, but he'd still find me wet.

"There she is," he said soothingly. "There's the fear."

He stuck two fingers in, rough and calloused. Tears streamed down my face. No. No. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. "Stop," I cried.

The ghost of a smile played on his lips. He received a sadistic pleasure from me, drawing everything I had left. "I want your fear. I want your tears. I want your voice. I want to possess you so badly, you'll be begging for my cock."

He removed the gun, put the safety back on, and put it in his jacket. He picked me up, cradling my body and took me out of the alleyway, where a limo waited. He told a man in a black suit waiting by the door that a doctor would be needed. Then, the driver opened up the back door, and the stranger from the alley placed me on the cool leather before he sat down, and then scooped me in his arms, holding me as if I were a prized possession, something he lucked into.

XXX

Two Years Later

On the compound, I have a small room the size of a walk-in closet that I got to decorate. I had Louis buy me paints online so I could paint a mural on my wall. I painted the ocean. I painted the crescent moon and I painted a mermaid on a rock, looking out. Always looking beyond the shore for something new. I wasn't allowed to go on the internet, but Klaus had his assistant Louis buy me anything I need. If Klaus knew how much I loved my room, he'd take it away and make me sleep at the foot of his bed like a pet. He did that anyways, sometimes, because he liked keeping me close. Easy access, he said.

Maybe he was afraid I'd try to escape, but that can't be right, because he liked it when I thought I'd live, it meant I still had fight in me, and Klaus liked to fight. To dominate. To own. If he was angry, he needed someone to take it out on, it was usually me. If he was horny, which was always, he'd fuck me against any and every surface hard surface, chained to the leg of his oak desk or spread open by the ankles against the wall. He'd push me to my knees and make me use my mouth.

I had my ways of fighting back. I would escape to someplace else in my mind when he'd take me, usually back to the beach where Damon laid his jacket on my shoulders. Klaus noticed, and he hated it when I did that. He wanted me present. He wanted to ride my pain like a wave crashing to shore. I was still sporting a greenish-yellow bloom of bruises on my ribs and thighs from the last time I tried to escape his eyes.

Klaus didn't think I was smart, which was a weapon in and of itself. He thought it was "cute" when he found me curled up on my bed with a book, before he dragged me by the hair to his bed. He thought I was impervious to conversation, so I listened. Klaus was typically up at early hours of the morning, making arrangements for shipments to various parts of the world. Columbia. Russia. Mexico. Middle East.

I heard everything. Tried to absorb as much information as I could. Sometimes Klaus would push me onto his cock while he sat at his desk to take a phone call. He'd hold my head down while I'd try to concentrate on sucking him off and listening to where his latest shipment was going, or the names he'd list as he talked. Names of policemen or politicians on his payroll, names of friends in government or leaders of competing families. Account numbers. Addresses. Phone numbers. I memorized them. Said them to myself over and over again until I could write the names down on the inside of one of the books on the shelf in my tiny room, Pride and Prejudice, a book I knew he wouldn't touch.

From months of watching Klaus operate his organization, I knew that secrets were the best weapon. Collecting information was how he became so powerful. Knowledge that a politician liked little boys, power. Knowledge that the CEO of a popular social media site preferred heroin over cocaine, power. So I started to do the same. Not just about him, but about the people he knew, the people he worked with.

I was sitting on my small bed, reading a fashion magazine Louis bought me and painting my nails blood red when Klaus came in, carrying a sheer black dress, high metallic shoes, and the velvet box. I hated that velvet box. It meant we were going out of the compound and seeing the outside world in a cage is the worst kind of imprisonment.

He hung the dress up on a hook on my door, laid the velvet box on my vanity and placed the shoes on the ground, then sat next to me on my bed, taking the bottle of polish from my hands, he carefully finished painting my nails. Ever the artist. He was in a good mood, which was bad for me because good moods meant he was unpredictable.

"I need you to behave tonight," he said, brushing blood red onto my big toe. His accent may have made some girls swoon, but it only brought me dread. Yelling, soft whispers, even chatter only brought pain, never pleasure. But I tried to appease to his mood, hoping he'd let me sleep in my room tonight.

I nodded in affirmation.

He stopped and looked up at me, disappointed. "Your voice, Elena."

I sucked in breath. "I will," I exhaled.

He nodded, pleased he could command me at will and went back to painting my toes. "Good. Very good."

This was bad. Very bad. A sense of dread weighed heavily in my stomach. Something was going on. There had been more chatter, more names to memorize than usual. A new partnership, perhaps. He shot his last business partner. Used them like toys until he grew bored and owned every one in their employ, then he let off the final blow. Torture. Stabbed. Shot. Decapitation. I'd seen it all, because he liked me to watch. Liked a good fuck after a kill.

"We're going to a birthday party for a senator," he said, pleased he could be a criminal in front of the law or with the law, as it were. They were all corrupt. I had yet to meet a person in any kind of power that wasn't secretly evil. When child protective services came to my uncle's cottage when I was eight, they were going to put me in foster care until my uncle paid them off. They never came back. At least Klaus was evil in front of everyone. It was almost a point of pride.

"Have you been to a birthday party, Elena?"

I know what he's doing. He wants my words and I have to give it to him, but I can choose what I give.

"No," I replied. This wasn't entirely true, before they died, my parents threw me birthday parties. Ones with cupcakes and sprinkles and princesses. They liked that I was a girl, even though I secretly always wanted a Star Wars theme. Secrets. That's what Klaus was after. We had that in common.

His fist connected with my stomach, the nail polish toppled to the floor. A guttural noise escaped my lips as he lay me flat on my back, his hands on my throat, squeezing, enough for me to struggle for air but not enough to bruise. We did have a party to go to, after all. Klaus would've been okay with bruises on my neck, he'd beaten me in front of associates. They liked to watch, but tonight, he didn't want anyone asking questions, which meant there would be people at the party who _would_ care how I was treated and ask questions.

His hand still pressed around my throat, he lowered his head so he was a mere inch from my face. "You will tell me everything," he demanded. "Your words are mine."

Spots danced before my eyes and I nodded, desperate for air. Just before I was about to pass out, he didn't let go, but he relieved the pressure. Flush against me, his legs caging me in, he unzipped his slacks and pulled out his hardened cock. His hands spread my legs apart and knowing there was no underwear as a barrier, he slammed into me and it split me in two. Pain shot through me as he drove into me, dry without any lubrication. This was my punishment. This was his pleasure.

After his release, he released me from his hold and stood up, tucking himself back in as come started to trail down my thigh. "Be ready in an hour," he demanded before leaving.

I got to keep the story about my birthday, but I was sure I wouldn't be sleeping in my bed tonight.

The night Klaus took me, or in some sadistic twisted way saved me from starvation, the doctor that came to the compound didn't tend to my bruises or malnourishment, but gave me a Depo-Provera birth control shot, and made sure I didn't carry any diseases. But Klaus did feed me and clothe me, and made sure the doctor gave me my shot every three months, so I was never sure how to interpret his behavior in the beginning, except that I wasn't here on my own free will. However, I did discover that I didn't want to die, and that thought, so different from how I felt on the alley, was comforting. I didn't hold onto hope, but I knew from my twenty years on earth that things change and I held onto that fact, waiting for the tide to change and preparing myself for what I'll do.

Louis may buy me almost anything I want, but Klaus bought the clothes I wore. He liked picking things out for me, like a doll he could dress up. The dress he laid out for me was an expensive designer black piece of sheer fabric with a silver hoop that clasped around my neck. It may have a sleeveless high neck, but the back was so low, one could see the curve of my ass. The hem floated above my knees, and the silver heels made my legs look long and lean. I didn't touch the velvet box, because Klaus liked to be the one who tended to that.

He walked in as I was finishing blowing out my long dark chestnut hair, making sure it was the way he liked it, bone straight, going down my back. "Lovely," he said, standing behind me, looking at me through my vanity mirror. "For a whore, you are lovely."

He took the velvet box off the vanity and opened it, revealing my diamond cuff. To anyone else, this may look like an extravagant gift, but I knew what it was because I wore it whenever we'd go outside the compound. It's like an invisible handcuff, tying me to him. Inside the cuff is a tracker that goes off if I'm more than twenty feet away from him. It was made for me, for my wrist, under lock and key. Last time it went off, I was kept in a cage in the middle of the compound, where his staff was allowed to throw scraps of food at me, and touch me. In the rain, at night, during a humid day, I was kept there. Kept under lock and key for ten days. Something I don't want to happen again.

Klaus attached the cuff to my wrist, and placed the key in the pocket of his tux. "You wouldn't want to loose me, now would you? Who knows what would happen to my pet if we were separated?"

I internally gagged, but I knew that there was truth to what he said. It could be worse. I'd repeat that like a mantra. _It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse._ I could be on the street starving. I could be chained up and shared. Klaus may turn the other way when people touched me, but he'd never share me. He'd kill anyone who'd try to rape me. My first month on the compound, one of his many guards on duty cornered me in my room, thinking I was property of the compound, not Klaus. Klaus heard my familiar cries of terror, ran to my room, and shot him in the head. A rug currently covers up the blood stains.

"You wouldn't leave me, would you?" He asked, knowing my answer.

Wanting my words, I knew what to say. "I'll never leave you, Klaus."

He smiled, pleased with my response. "Good."

I needed to ask him something, but I didn't know how to do it. I didn't want to end up back in the cage, but I knew if I didn't say anything, he'd be even more furious. I couldn't win. The doctor didn't come by to give me my birth control shot. Like clockwork, he always had the doctor visit me. Was this another game? Did he want me to ask? To doubt his competence? I'd wait until later, he'd be in a good mood after the party. He'd also be drunk after the party.

He led me to one of his bullet proof limos. Louis, lean and wearing his usual black suit, nodded at me. "Looking nice, Miss."

I grinned. Louis was the only person on the compound that was genuinely kind to me. Sometimes he ordered me expensive French macaroons from Paris, other times he brought me a newspaper, something I'm sure Klaus wouldn't want me to read.

Once Louis shut the limo door, Klaus pulled me next to him, resting one hand on my thigh while he scrolled through his phone with the other. If I pleased him, I might be able to see what was on his phone. I'd never owned a phone and rarely got to go on a computer, so looking at his screen and watching him scroll through social media, or his emails was a sort of entertainment for me. I rested my head on his shoulder, pretending that I sought comfort or some sort of forgiveness from earlier, instead of what I was really doing, looking at his phone. He was sending an email to Hugo, a business deal was going down tonight, someone coming into Klaus's organization, but I couldn't decipher the coded words.

"Curious little kitten, aren't you?" He chortled, stroking my hair.

I mewed, because I knew it would please him. He wasn't angry that I was looking because he thought I was too stupid to understand. I would always be the whore he found behind a dumpster. "Tonight's a big night for me. I'm making my kingdom so big, no one would dare go up against me. I'm building a legacy."

It was odd for Klaus to think of his own mortality, so something must've changed. He must've been threatened. Who would be dumb enough to threaten Klaus? He wouldn't hesitate to extinguish a small village if he thought someone who lived there was a potential threat to his power. Anyone who'd go up against him signed their own death warrant.

"They're fools," I said, choosing my words carefully. I had to keep him happy. Klaus stopped stroking my hair and looked at me, curiously. "Anyone who'd threaten you is a fool."

A smile spread across his lips. "Yes, kitten. Anyone who gets in our way will pay with more than their life."

My eyes widened. A slip of my mask as a complacent pet. He'd never referred to anything as ours.

"Ours," he repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. He tipped his head down and took my mouth, invading my senses. It was an animalistic need that scared me. Whatever was going on, wasn't good for my own mortality, even if Klaus was beginning to question his. I gave into his kiss, allowing him to take what he needed. When he was done, he laid my head on his lap so he could pet my hair and look at his emails away from my curious eyes.

The party was held in a mansion in a posh gated community outside of Mystic Falls. Police patrolled the gates of the red brick mansion. I watched them while we waited in a line of limos, black Escalades, and Maseratis, check cars for explosives, search the guests before they entered the party. When it was our turn, we somehow got a pass. The police addressed Klaus with respect and nodded greeting in my direction.

Klaus's hand snaked around my waist as we entered the party. The entryway was decked out in Roaring Twenties theme with poker tables and a band playing jazz. Women were dressed in flapper dresses, long pear necklaces, with their hair styled short with pin curls. Men wore fedoras and vests or suspenders, drinking out of thick glass tumblers. It was like something straight out of The Great Gatsby.

Of course Klaus didn't play along with someone else's requirements, preferring to stick out, never someone who could be controlled. I felt like a fool. It looked like fun dressing up in a fringe dress and a wear headband with a feather sticking out of it. Instead I was wearing a flimsy dress that Klaus picked out.

Klaus's hand drifted beneath the side of my dress so his hand was splayed on the flesh of my stomach. He leaned in and bit my earlobe. "They're all looking at us."

Because we're dressed like we stepped into the wrong party, but I didn't say that, instead, I let a smile dance on my lips. "They're looking at you."

Klaus knocked his head back and chuckled. "Of course they are, kitten. I own everyone here."

I leaned in, curious. "Everyone?"

He shrugged, handing me a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "Anyone worth owning," he took a sip of his own champagne. "And those I haven't met yet will be mine before the night's over."

I drank the champagne, watching people while Klaus steered me around the room, talking to people while his hands stayed firmly on my waist. I met a famous movie star, a prince of a country I'd never heard of, football athletes, and politicians. I tried to get their names straight. The Secretary of Treasury, Colton Smith, the Secretary of Trade and Commerce, Boyd Price, officials from the FBI, they all addressed Klaus with respect, and though some had a lingering eye, especially when Klaus decided to tweak my nipple while talking to Mr. Price, they didn't so much as shake my hand. It was as though I was a prop, much like one of the fake gangster machine guns some of the men carried around. I wasn't real and carried no threat except that I completed the ensemble.

I gazed around the room while Klaus talked about oil shares in Singapore, when someone's back caught my eye. It was familiar, like someone from a dream I'd awoken from long ago. Raven hair, long enough to run your fingers through, but short on the sides. Broad shoulders, a lean strong build, someone who ran and was used to running long distances. He was talking to a model from a Calvin Klein ad in one of the magazines Louis brought me. She had long blond hair and was laughing at something he said and pointed in our direction. He kissed her on the cheek and turned around.

My stomach dropped because I knew those eyes. Those cool blue eyes captivated me, once upon a time. The velvet lips uttered words of comfort and promised to keep me. As he drew closer, he faltered slightly when he saw me, holding my gaze for a fraction of a second before he turned to Klaus.

"Klaus," He said, shaking his hand. "Enjoying the party?"

Klaus was different around him than anyone else. More eager, more friendly. This was someone who's opinion he cared for. Something I'd never seen before.

"Elena," Klaus said. "This is Damon Salvatore, he'll be working closely with me on the compound."

This was the person joining Klaus. The eighteen year old boy who carried me to his home and made me promises I knew he couldn't keep. They say waves are created by energy passing through water. As Damon shook my hand, I felt that familiar pull, the surge of energy awakening me. Giving me hope. He was dangerous


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

This man was shaking my hand when no other at the party had dared to do more than acknowledge the piece on Klaus's arm. His hand felt warm, like when you warm your hands over the fire on a cold day. What would it feel like to have those arms around me again? Sometimes, in the place before sleep and awake, I could feel him holding me so close. I could even smell him, car grease and wash soap.

Klaus wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him, forcing me to release Damon's hand. He leaned in and nipped my ear, tugging me so close to him, I was practically an appendage. A clear show of dominance.

"Don't look too excited, pet," he whispered in my ear. "You're mine."

I had to turn this around. I couldn't let Klaus know that I knew Damon, though I wasn't entirely sure that Damon remembered me. I tilted my head, let a seductive grin grow on my painted lips. "The only thing I'm excited about," I softly whispered, sinking into his embrace. "Is getting out of this dress and getting you to myself."

Klaus let out a chuckle. "Greedy one, aren't you?"

Leaning against his chest, one arm wrapped around me, the other with a drink in hand, Klaus seemed to have recovered from my slip. My eyes flicked to Damon's. The whole show was for him, after all. Klaus needed to mark his territory, draw an invisible line in the sand. Damon's expression was cold, his eyes clouded over with enmity, but he quickly recovered. "Klaus, I was hoping we'd have a moment alone to discuss business."

Klaus pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Go freshen up, kitten."

I mewed protest, playing his game. Always _his_ game. He smacked my bottom playfully as I moved to leave, a reminder to leave but not go far. I let out a yelp and slinked off towards the bathroom slowly, trying to catch some of their conversation. "Where did you find her?" Damon asked casually, he could've been talking about the weather.

"Elena was a gift from above for vanquishing a nasty little traitor."

So the guy Klaus shot in the alley betrayed him. Going into business with Klaus meant Damon was as good as dead, I had to warn him, somehow, without Klaus finding out.

I continued walking to the bathroom, making sure I was within a safe distance of Klaus, when a large man stopped me by placing his broad frame in front of the washroom. He looked out of place at the party, with his parted blonde hair and skinny black tie. In his cheap knock off suit, it looked like he didn't get the memo themed dressed memo either.

"Elena Gilbert," he stated as though he were reading my name off of a monitor. All business, no inflection.

My eyes tried to find Klaus to see if he was watching this interaction. He could've sent someone to escort me, but this guy didn't look like one of Klaus's men. Klaus's back was turned, he was talking to Damon and Boyd Price, the Secretary of Trade and Commerce.

"It's okay," the man said. "Klaus can't see us."

That was not okay because in my experience, being alone with a man that was dumb enough to want to see me alone never ended well. I tried to walk around him, but he continued to block my path.

I sighed. "Sir," I said. "I need to use the washroom, so if you'd please move.."

"Afraid to talk to me?" He inquired.

I blinked. He should be the one afraid.

"What will happen when you get home tonight?"

Son of a bitch. I turned around trying to find Klaus. There was no way he'd be okay with this.

"Will you be beaten? Raped? Will he be so mad that you talked to someone else, he snaps and kills you?" He pressed.

I swallowed, feeling my anger rise I clenched my fist.

He continued, soaking in my every reaction, relishing in it. "What happens six months from now? A year from now? You have to know you have an expiration date."

I continued to try to push past him, but he stood there, like a fucking statue.

"Will anyone go to your funeral? Will anyone know you even existed?"

It happened fast. So fast. I shouldn't be surprised by these things anymore. With repressed anger, anger I'd been bottling up for years, I slapped him across the face. Even though the sound of hand on flesh reverberated throughout the room, his head barely swayed, so when I went for another hit, he clapped his hand around my wrist. He pulled me in, his head dipped to my ear.

"Before your boyfriend gets here to rescue you," he whispered. "I'm from the FBI." He slowly opened his jacket to reveal his badge. Matt Donovan.

"That means nothing to me," I replied. Klaus had people in every department of the government, and even if this guy was from the FBI, in my experience, anyone in some kind of power is corrupt.

"If you want your life to mean something, you can help the good guys take Klaus Mikaelson down. We already have someone else in Klaus's inner circle in place, we just need information that only you can get us."

A laugh escaped my lips. "If you think I'm privy to any information, than you don't know Klaus at all."

This wasn't entirely true, and I knew it, but I don't trust him.

"Your boyfriend's here," I felt something drop in my purse. "Call me when you're ready."

By the time I looked up, he was gone. Klaus was walking over, anger radiated off of him. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the washroom, shutting the door behind us. "I thought I told you to behave yourself tonight. Slapping one of the guests isn't behaving yourself."

Shit. Fucking fuck shit.

I can't say anything.

If I tell him I was talking to an FBI agent, I'm as good as dead. If I tell him there's a mole in his organization, we're all as good as dead. Klaus's paranoia is notorious. If he even thinks I let something slip, he'd kill me or worse, lock me in the cage for the foreseeable future. If I tell him he was hitting on me, Klaus would find him and kill him. What if he was FBI and was actually trying to capture Klaus, don't I want that? But Damon was involved now, which would mean I'd be implicating him too.

I have to calm Klaus down and I can't draw his attention to who the man that I slapped was.

I have to lie.

I sagged against his chest and used all my anxiety from the past five minutes to sob. I looked up into his eyes, giving him a mournful look and tell him what he wants to hear. "I'm sorry, Klaus. I was so distraught and lonely after you sent me away that when a waiter bumped into me, I slapped him. I couldn't help it, I don't like being away from you."

Klaus put his hands on my shoulders and threw me against the wall. My head slapped back against the tile with such force, I almost blacked out, but my body was always ready for his abuse. I tried to stand but felt my legs give out.

"I don't give a fuck if you were lonely, Elena," he pulled me up and slapped me across the face. "I told you tonight was important to me and your tantrum interrupted a very big deal going down tonight."

I braced myself for another hit, but instead he leaned me against the wall, his hands reached beneath my dress, found my bare flesh and started stroking. A moan escaped my lips because my mind and my body always functioned on two separate wavelengths. My hips rocked against his hand as he inserted two fingers. "Ride it, pet," He said in a deep hushed whisper. "Ride it like the dirty whore you are."

Klaus was flush against me, holding me up against the tile while I rolled my hips, my hands clenched to his shoulder. Every time I tried to rest my head on his shoulder or hide the humiliation evident on my face, he'd cup my chin with his hand and force me to look him in the eyes.

"Cry for me," he demanded. Tears came on cue and I started whimpering.

He licked my tears, lavished in my pain. His tongue trailed to my neck, where he started sucking, biting. As he leaned in, I could feel his hardness against my stomach.

"Say it," he demanded. "Say it!"

I knew what he wanted. It was what he always wanted. My tears, my voice, my cries, he wanted me begging. Wanted me to need him so bad I wouldn't know how to function without him. In the recess of my mind, a part I liked to keep under lock and key, I knew it to be true. Before Klaus there was pain, and with Klaus there is pain. Maybe this is what I deserve.

"I...I want your cock," I panted, barely audible, my body searching for release, something more to rid the pain that coiled up in my core.

Suddenly, he let go, dropping me. His hand came up and again, slapped me hard across the face. "Never interrupt me again."

I couldn't leave it like this, if I did, I'd be in the cage. I crawled to him, reached up and tugged at his slacks. He kicked me out of the way.

"Please," I pleaded. He dragged me by the hair and pushed me to my knees. I sighed with relief, which I'm sure he interpreted differently.

I undid his pants and pulled out his length and like the trained pet I was, I sucked him the way he liked, allowing him to pull my hair and slam me against his length until I could feel his release slide down my throat. As soon as I swallowed, he pushed me away, tucked himself back in, and washed his hands.

"Clean yourself up and find me," he said, right before he left.

I got up and braced myself against the basin before looking in the mirror. I looked like a mess, like I was thoroughly fucked, not thoroughly fucked up. My neck sported the largest hickey he'd ever given me. Marking me. My hair was a tangle, and had traces of his come on it. Mascara was running down my flushed cheeks. This is what he wanted. This was my punishment, to go back out to that party looking like the whore I was.

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to straitened it, and washed the mascara under my eyes. I picked up my purse that had fallen to the floor when we entered and searched it for concealer to cover up my hickey, but instead I saw something much worse. A flip phone. The agent must've slipped it in there before he left. From my years with Klaus, I knew this was a burner phone, untraceable. If Klaus saw this, I'd be dead. I looked at the stupid thing that might as well have been a bomb in my hands. I should toss it. I should. But instead, I created a rip in the lining of my metallic purse and tucked the phone beneath the fabric.

I took my lipstick and started reapplying it, knowing I was running out of time. I ignored the pain that shot through my abdomen when I started to walk toward the door, instead, I straitened my dress, and rolled my shoulders back, trying to find a level of confidence I knew I had somewhere, and walked out.

The party was still going on as if nothing had happened but the music seemed louder. People were dancing on a raised floor to the live band, swirling, laughing, some even kissing. The levity in their lives was a foreign concept, something I knew wasn't in the cards for me.

Klaus looked completely composed talking to Damon, as though nothing had happened. Foreign dignitaries and their wives walked up to Damon and Klaus. They shook hands, Klaus winked playfully at the wives before kissing them on the cheek. I stood and watched, embarrassed to walk over there with my hair askew and a hickey on my neck. Surely they'd know what happened, I reeked of sex. I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled it over my shoulder, trying to conceal Klaus's mark.

Klaus met my eyes and inclined for me to go to him. I could feel blush creep up my neck and cheeks as I tremulously walked over, suddenly finding it hard to wear heals. Oh god, could this night just be over?

"There you are, kitten."

I was surely beat red at this point.

I bowed my head, letting my hair cascade over part of my face, concealing any marks, and smiled nervously.

"My kitten can be such a shy one, come here, love."

I took one step to Klaus, avoiding Damon's eyes, which I could feel bore into me. Klaus pulled me the rest of the way, holding me against his chest, his arm firmly around my waist. The drape of my halter neckline made it easy for Klaus to snake his hand through the side of dress and stroke the flesh just beneath my breasts. He was doing this earlier, but this time we were in front of government officials from Eastern Europe and their wives, not people already on good terms with Klaus. Klaus didn't care, one of his greatest pleasures was messing with me. Humiliating me. That's why my cage is in the middle of his compound, so people have to walk by and look at Klaus's whore.

I refused to look up, refused to meet anyone's eye, but the moment Klaus noticed, his hand danced down to my sex. My chin immediately went up and my eyes shot forward, meeting everyone's eyes. Satisfied, his hand went back to the underside of my breasts, gently stroking. The wives looked scandalized and offended, which only humored Klaus. The men however, looked appreciatively on as my nipples hardened beneath Klaus's touch.

Damon was no longer looking in our direction, but talking privately with another dignitary Klaus was talking to earlier. I think he was from an Asian country, and from their rapport and Damon's ease with the language, I knew Damon must've known him well. All I know from that night six years ago, was that Damon went into the military. But what happened since then?

"That's a beautiful girl you have there," the Eastern European official commented in a thick accent. "Do you share? I'd make it worth your while."

His wife wasn't rattled by the suggestion at all, almost as though she expected it. Damon's head snapped toward the conversation, putting a halt to the conversation he was having. His hands squeezed into fists and flexed, veins bulging out of his wrists. Probably upset that Klaus was using me to distract from their deal.

"This one is very special to me," Klaus said, his hand lightly grazing my nipple, the other moving my hair off my shoulder, displaying his mark. He licked it, sealing the wound. I sighed, appreciatively, knowing it was easier to give in than to fight it. "She's mine and I'm not in the habit of sharing what's mine."

He wasn't just talking about me.

The official nodded, as though he understood the depth of Klaus's words. "Your friends in the White House will sign off on the trade agreement?"

Klaus chuckled mockingly. "Ivanov, haven't I taught you anything? Only commit illegal activity if you can find a way to do it legally."

Ivanov burst out laughing. "Mr. Mikaelson, I like the way you conduct business."

One of Klaus's guards got his attention. "If you'll excuse me, one of my guards would like a word," he said, letting go of me, and patting me on the ass before he left.

The wives of the officials dragged the men to the dance floor, leaving me alone with Damon. Damon didn't look at me, but my body awakened to his presence. He may not remember me, but my entire being certainly did. He stood next to me, brushing my shoulder with his. That simple touch stirred up something deep, a repressed feeling of longing and desire. "Do you enjoy being Klaus's girlfriend?" He muttered next to my ear.

That's what he thought this was? He was more naive than I thought. "Do you enjoy being his lackey?"

Damon let out an irritated sigh. "I don't work for him, I'm working with him."

"Klaus doesn't work with people, he owns people," I retorted. "You heard him, he doesn't like to share his toys, do you think that's limited to me, Ivanov, or the people in his employ?"

"You deserve better than him," he practically whispered.

If one looked on, it'd look as though Damon and I were strangers standing side by side, watching the party guests dance. They wouldn't see our shoulders brush and they wouldn't see Damon's hand touch mine, our fingers trying to find each other. Need consumed me. The desire to be held. The desire to be cherished.

But he didn't remember me. I was Klaus's girlfriend in his eyes.

"You don't know me," I said. "You don't know what I deserve."

 _Please, say you know me. Please say you remember._

He dropped my hand and stepped away from me, confirming my unasked question.

Klaus walked back with one of his guards, no more than eighteen. One of the new guys. "Elena," Klaus said. He seemed angry, but like he was trying to keep it together momentarily. "Come with me. Damon, why don't you join us."

Klaus took my hand, the same one Damon had touched moments earlier, and dragged me outside of the mansion, leading me to the edge of the property, near a forest of trees. A couple of his men had their guns pointed to a man on his knees in the grass. Someone was holding a flashlight, illuminating the man in front of us. A man in a cheap white dress shirt with blond hair, his hands bound behind his back.

Klaus positioned me in front of the man, an iron clad grip on my neck. One of the guards lifted up the man's head. I stifled a shocked cry. It was Matt Donovan, the FBI official. Terror ripped though me. This was it, this is the moment I die. "Is this the waiter that bumped into you? Is this the waiter you slapped?"

"I...I don't know," I said, feeling myself start to sob.

Klaus pushed me further, forcing me to look at Matt in the face. He looked terrified, his eyes pleading for help, someone who knew they were at the end of their line.

"You don't remember the man you slapped? The man who interrupted my meeting? Embarrassed me?" Klaus yelled.

Sobs escaped my lips. "I don't know, Klaus. I don't remember."

Klaus pushed me to my knees, so I was an exact parallel to Matt, both on our knees, both facing death. He threw a jacket in between us, and then threw Matt's badge on top of that.

"He's FBI, Elena," He shouted, venom in his voice. "What did he say to you?"

Think, Elena, think.

God, how was I going to get myself out of this?

Klaus already knows he's FBI, but he doesn't know that I knew.

"He tried to hit on me, so I slapped him," I say through cracked sobs. "I didn't know he was FBI. I thought he was one of Price's guys and I didn't want to interrupt the party. I'm sorry, Klaus."

Klaus took me by the back of the head and pushed me closer, so I was mere inches from Matt's face. "He didn't ask you to inform on me? Tell him all my secrets?"

Damon stepped forward. "Klaus, there's obviously been a misunderstanding. Elena wouldn't do that to you. When you stepped away, all she could talk about was how much she needed you," he said. "Honestly, she wouldn't shut up about how impressive you are. It was disgusting." He added.

Klaus let go of me. "Damon," he said. "Search her purse."

Fuck.

Damon took my purse and rifled through it, he paused for a fraction of a second, faltering. He quickly recovered and flipped the purse upside down, the contents spilling all over the grass. "Nothing here."

Klaus pulled me up, kissing me on the cheek. "I knew you were loyal," he muttered approvingly. Then, he put a gun in my hands. "Kill the man that touched what's mine. Kill the fool that tried to take what's mine."

"What?" I cried. "Klaus, I can't. Maybe we can flip him," I pleaded. "Maybe we can get him on our side to be a double agent. We can't waste an opportunity like this. He'd be indebted to you."

With my words, Matt nodded, and I knew that he really would be a double agent. He didn't want to die. "Please," he cried. "I have a family. I'll get you anything you need. Any information you want."

Klaus put his hands on my shoulders and leaned down. "Kill him, Elena. Kill him or I'll put you in the cage. Kill him or I may think you knew he was FBI and I'll kill both of you."

My hands shook as I raised the weapon. Tears falling freely from my face. I looked at Matt's face, the terror in his eyes. He was begging. "Please," he said between sobs. "Please. My wife. My kids."

I shook my head. I can't do this. I can't do this.

I let the weapon drop from my fingers and fall to the grass.

A gun shot rang through the air and hit Matt in the skull. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Damon," Klaus admonished. "I wanted Elena to do it."

Damon killed him. The boy that held me in my arms truly was gone, corrupted by power and greed.

Damon shrugged. "I was getting bored. Are we done? Can we get back to the party? There was a lovely model who promised to show me her hidden tattoo."

Klaus chuckled and clapped Damon on the shoulder. "Now, I wouldn't want to keep you from that."

I stood there, still looking at the dead body on the grass. I'd seen men killed before, but this was the first time I felt responsible. I felt like I pulled the trigger.

"Elena," Klaus called. "Come."

The blond hair was stained with blood. There were grass stains on his back, probably from when they grabbed him. Did he try to fight? When he approached me, did he know he was as good as dead? Did he care? Klaus's guards started to drag the body away, cleaning up the inconvenient mess I made.

My fault. It was my fault.

Klaus wrapped his arm around my shoulder and steered me away from Matt's dead body. He leaned into my ear. "Don't worry, kitten. I won't put you in the cage. I'm proud of you, you saw him for what he really was. I wouldn't have caught him if it wasn't for you."

"Then why did you want me to kill him?" I asked. "Why did you threaten me?"

"I was giving you a gift. I wanted you to understand what it's like to take someone's life. It's an incredible feeling and I knew you might need motivation to kill."

He was wrong. I don't need motivation to kill, because one day, I was going to kill Klaus and I don't even care if I die doing it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Sing me a song," he said to me, sitting on a rock overlooking the ocean. There was a part of Rusty Beach that was covered in rocks. I liked to hike them until I found the right spot to sit and watch the waves crash to shore. He always found me because he knew if I was gone too long, I wouldn't go to school the next day, and Damon said school was important.

I put my index finger to my lips trying to think of the right one, then a picture came to me of my mom and dad, dancing barefoot in the kitchen. Dinner would be on the stove, and my dad would take my mom's hands and spin her around while singing a tune. "Would you know my name, if I saw you in heaven?" I sang. "Would it be the same, if I saw you in heaven?"

Damon took my hand in his, giving me the strength to go back. "I must be strong," my voice carried out to the ocean, serenading the mermaids. "...and carry on 'cause I know I don't belong here in heaven."

My eyes welled up with tears and slid down my face as I continued. "Would you hold my hand, if I saw you in heaven? Would you help me stand, if I saw you in heaven? I'll find my way through the night and day, 'cause I know I just dance stay here in heaven..."

My voice drifted off as the memories I tried to push away became thicker. Damon cupped my face with his large calloused hands, drying my tears with his thumbs. "Thank you, little bird. That was beautiful." He kissed me on the forehead. "Let's get you back."

XXX

Klaus was in a good mood by the time we rejoined the party. I was hoping we'd leave, but they hadn't cut the birthday cake and Klaus loves cake. Buttercream frosting and sprinkles humanize him, and I'll take what I can get. I stood, eating a slice of vanilla cake, taking my time because it kept my hands busy and freed me from Klaus's hold. The guests in attendance were asked to donate money to the senator's favorite charity, so there were no gifts to open up. Maybe as you get older, that becomes tacky, I wouldn't know as this is the first birthday party I've attended since I was six.

Klaus was talking to some celebrity, a big action star from a comic book movie with two first names, Cole Blake, or something like that. He was cute, with wavy blond hair, rippling muscles, and tan skin, but like everyone else didn't approach me. Could have something to do with the fact that I'm pretty sure I still have come in my hair and I haven't bothered to try to conceal Klaus's hickey, my hair was no longer swept to the side, but a mess, constantly sticking to the lip gloss I reapplied.

"I think if you take any longer to eat that, it's going to start looking like Miss Havisham's wedding cake," a familiar voice said, sidling next to me. A Great Expectations reference, how apt.

"If I start walking around in an old wedding dress, you have permission to commit me," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Is that in your future? Marriage to Klaus?"

I promptly handed the cake to a nearby waiter and turned to Damon. "My relationship with Klaus is none of your business and I don't think he'd like it if he knew you were prying."

He raised his eyebrows, he glanced over my shoulder before brushing my hair off my shoulder and running his hand gently over Klaus's mark. His head tilted to the side, inspecting it. I don't know why I let him. "Do you love him?"

My breathing shallowed and for a brief moment I closed my eyes and let Damon touch that sensitive part of my neck. Tracing the bruise lightly with his index finger, sending chills down my spine. I swallowed trying to remember that this was the man that killed Matt Donovan not long ago because he grew bored. This was someone who was working for Klaus, naive enough to think he was working with him, which meant he didn't know what he was doing. A stranger. I let his question hang in the air, unanswered. If he thought I could love Klaus, he knew nothing.

I felt cold absence as Damon's hand dropped to his side. My eyes snapped open with awareness. "Klaus, Aagha Naser arrived and would like to speak with you in the study."

"Ah, lovely. Will you watch Elena?" Klaus asked. "I don't know how long I'll be."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Now, kitten," Klaus admonished. "Don't pout. After the exciting night, we've had, I want to be sure you're safe."

"I'll keep a close eye on her," Damon replied, straight-faced and giving nothing away.

Klaus leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "Don't get tired, love," he whispered. "I have a fun evening for us planned."

I smiled and returned his kiss. Fun evening? When it comes to Klaus, that could entail anything. I need to flag down a waiter and order a coffee.

Once Klaus was out of earshot, I freely glared at Damon who looked equally pissed off. "Since you don't seem to know how Klaus's organization operates, people who work _for_ him guard me."

Damon's eyebrow quirked. "Maybe I wanted to babysit."

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter. Alcohol would have to do instead of caffeine. "If you live long enough to get paid for babysitting," I raised my glass in the air. "Mazel tov," I said, taking a long swig of champagne.

Damon's clear blue eyes lightened with amusement. He took the flute from my fingertips and left it on a nearby high table behind where we stood. "Since I'm going to be dead before the night's over, I'd hate to die without having a dance with the scariest person in the room." He had a playful glint in his eye while he held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

I let out a light laugh as I put my hand in his. "Such flattering words, Mr. Salvatore."

He grinned as he pulled me out to the dance floor, wrapping one arm around my waist and using our clasped hands, guided me with the music. It was the end of an upbeat song, something by a British boy band. Damon expertly spun me with his right hand, catching me with his left, when the song switched to _Wild Horses,_ by The Rolling Stones.

He pulled me close and swayed with me to the slower beat. My head rested on his shoulder, while his hand, wrapped securely around my waist, pulled me closer. "Wild horses, couldn't drag me away..." he lightly sang, his voice soothing me, making me drunk.

I closed my eyes, my head laying in the crook of his neck, trusting that he'd lead me in the right direction. I breathed him in. Klaus always smelled of cologne and whiskey, but Damon...Damon smelled like home, like the sea mixed with sweat, purely male. I sighed contentedly, forgetting for a moment, just a fraction of a second, that someone could see and report this back to Klaus or that Klaus himself could walk out here and shoot Damon on the spot, and then me for betraying him. Instead, I soaked in the moment of warmth and comfort in someone familiar's arms.

When the song ended, he let go of me and took a step back as though he just realized I was contagious with some horrific zombie virus. I practically fell over from the absence of his body for support. A cold chill ran through me as he turned around, not even looking at me. What just happened? We were dancing as if we were in our own little world, he had to have felt that. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe he just wanted to prove a point that he could have what Klaus has. Maybe he was pissed Klaus left him on Elena-duty. Either way, it was clear I was the only one affected by what happened, because the moment he let go, he grabbed another girl and started dancing with her, leaving me alone, while a mass of people danced around me.

I struggled to get through the crowd, knowing that I couldn't go far, but desperate for air. I walked through a sitting area until I found a sliding door that leads to a patio. I slid open the door and sat on one of the lounge chairs, laying down. I'd stay out here a minute, just enough time to clear my head before I had to go back to the party.

It was chilly, but I didn't mind the cool air. It reminded me that I was still able to feel something normal. I gazed at the crescent moon. Hard to believe in all these years, the moon has stayed the same, still glowing in the sky, illuminating the darkness that creeps across the earth.

"I thought I might find you out here," said someone with a dignified British accent. He sat on the lounge chair, next to my outstretched legs. I looked into his warm brown eyes, his dark chestnut hair parted and side-swept, wearing a charcoal grey three-piece suit with a blue paisley pocket square.

I put my hand on his. "My favorite Mikaelson."

He squeezed my hand. "Has my brother been in a mood?"

I tilted my head, trying to analyze Elijah's motive. Next, to Louis, Elijah was the kindest person to me, but he was rarely in town because he's been on the outs with Klaus for the past year. I shrugged. "He keeps me on my toes."

Just because I liked him, didn't mean I trusted him. Trusting people got you killed.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, seeing right through my bullshit. "I can get you out of here."

"And take me where, hmm?" I replied scathingly. "Back to the compound or back to the party? Because we both know those are the only two options."

"I have ways of keeping you safe," he replied, and there was a deep sincerity to his voice. He truly believed the words he spoke, and all I could do in reply was laugh.

"And go from one bed to the next," I surmise.

His eyebrows narrowed. "It wouldn't be like that. I could set you up in your own apartment in another country, any country you want. You could go to school, go out and walk around town and explore knowing you were safe. You'd have freedom."

My breath caught. Elijah didn't bring me things like Louis, we had conversation. He'd tell me about his childhood and we'd talk about history, politics and he taught me about business. Never did I get an inclination that he was more than Klaus's brother who wanted back into Klaus's business.

I shook my head. "I'm not getting between you and your brother. I know you care for him, he's family after all, and I refuse to be the pawn in whatever fight you two are having."

Elijah scanned the patio, making sure no one had walked in on our conversation. "Something is about to go down, and I need to know your safe."

"And…what? You're just going to risk your life and the relationship with your brother, for me? And you don't want anything in return?"

He looked sheepish for a moment. Of course, there was a price to pay, there was always a price to pay. "I need information."

This was the second time tonight someone wanted me to get information. People were clearly misguided on my relationship with Klaus, and something was most definitely going down.

"I can't help you," I replied simply.

"With this, you can," he replied. "You grew up on Rusty Beach, so you're the only one who'd know how to get close to Damon Salvatore. He runs that town and Klaus is looking to expand his territory to Rusty Beach. I want to know why that small town when he practically runs countries."

I sat up, tucking my legs under my body. "Damon runs Rusty Beach?"

"You know him?" Elijah replied looking hopeful.

Shit. He couldn't know I knew Damon.

I shook my head. "I've heard of him."

"Will you do it?"

If I helped him, I could control the information he was getting. "What will you do with the information once I get it?"

"When Klaus was a kid, he didn't throw temper tantrums in the middle of the grocery store because our mother refused to buy him a candy bar, he waited until we got home and when my mother wasn't looking, hid all of her jewelry around the house, even buried a few family heirlooms in the backyard." I started to laugh, but Elijah stopped me with a stern look. "He's always been manipulative and smart, saving the tantrums and harsh words for when they're the most effective. My mother had to buy him a case of chocolates just to get him to tell her where her diamonds were. In the end, Klaus had enough candy to supply a store."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"He's never seen justice. Never had actual consequences. He besmirched our family name years ago when he started this business and it's time to take him home," Elijah replied.

"Back to Hampshire?"

He nodded.

"You want to destroy his business and you need me to do it?" I asked.

Elijah nodded once more.

"What does Damon have to do with destroying Klaus's business?"

"He's involved in Klaus's latest scheme, and in order to get to Klaus, you go through his partner," Elijah explained.

Klaus doesn't have partners, no matter what he or Damon says, and Elijah knows it. Something else is going on, and in order to control the information Elijah receives, I'd have to agree.

"And you'll set me up with an apartment, in a country of my choosing?" I ask.

"And six million dollars in a bank account under your name," he replied.

I swallowed. That money is freedom, freedom I've never had. Damon didn't remember me, and Damon wasn't the one who knew he could be placed in a cage or die at any moment. Damon didn't have to face Klaus tonight when he was in a good mood and wanted to play, which never ended well for me. This money was freedom and Elijah was the only person I trusted to give me that freedom.

"I'll do it," I replied firmly. "But I want something in return."

A smile grew on his lips. "Negotiating?"

"I don't want anyone to know where I'm going. The money goes into a Swiss bank account under my name, but I want one of your jets fueled and ready to take off to a destination nobody knows, even you."

Elijah leaned forward and tenderly brushed a lock of hair from my eyes, his hand grazed down my cheek and cupped my chin, tilting it up. He looked firmly into my eyes, studying me, his thumb grazing my lip. "And what if I want to see you?"

Manipulation, my mind, my body, where the only things I had left, the only power I could wield like a sword and Elijah was my out. So I raised my head and let my lips graze his, waiting for him to take what I knew he wanted. His breath hitched, before he pressed his lips to mine, his hands still cupping my face as if I were precious. His kiss was gentle and sweet, and the exact opposite of everything Klaus was. But it wasn't for me…not the real me… it was for the caged, helpless little girl he wanted to protect.

Someone nearby cleared their throat. Elijah continued kissing me, slipping his tongue into my mouth, tasting me, ignoring the intruder. I, however, gently placed my hands on his shoulders, and tilted my head so I could break our kiss. I turned to look at who had interrupted, silently praying it wasn't one of Klaus's men.

It was worse.

So much worse.

Damon stood there, his arms folded, wearing a murderous look.

"Klaus is ready to go back to the compound," Damon said.

I nodded and stood up, straightening my dress, feeling the heat of Damon's gaze on me. When I turned to Elijah, who was standing next to me, straightening his already perfect tie, he looked as calm as ever. He strode over to Damon and shook his hand. "Damon Salvatore, I heard that you're Elena's new guard. I do hope you now realize that when you partnered with my brother, you were never going to be treated as his equal."

Damon quirked an eyebrow. "Whoever said I aspired to be his equal?"

Elijah patted him on the shoulder. "Do take care of Klaus's girl, we wouldn't want to lose her again. The consequences could be dire."

Elijah started walking back toward the party, leaving me alone with Damon. "I could tell Klaus," he said.

"You could." I shrugged, somehow knowing he wouldn't. He would have to admit to losing me, after all.

He pressed his lips together, clearly irritated, but he didn't say anything else. He simply waited for me to join him so we could go back to the party, but I wasn't ready. "Are you really my new guard?"

Damon nodded. "There's a lot going on right now, and Klaus wants to make sure you're protected."

My head tilted to the side and I licked my lip. "And you'll protect me?"

"Yes," he answered immediately.

"So you'll be following me around everywhere?"

"I can't imagine you go many places."

This time I quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know, I might feel like spending hours and hours at an art museum."

This was a lie, but I don't think Damon realized I wasn't able to leave the compound.

Damon shrugged. "Hours walking around a museum with you and looking at paintings of naked people sounds like a nice way to spend an afternoon."

The image of Damon at an art museum, wearing his old leather jacket, jeans with grease stains on them, and his hair slightly long on top and wild had me smiling. He did that with a simple statement I was suddenly back on Rusty Beach, admiring him from afar.

I held out my hand. "Ready to escort me back to Klaus?"

He inclined his chin in the direction of the party and started walking back, leaving my hand hanging in the air, knowing I'd race to follow him. Once we were side by side, Damon took the opportunity to grab my elbow and pulled me to an alcove. I stood in the corner, while his other hand pressed against the wall, caging me in so I had nowhere to go.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

His eyes looked predatory, scanning my face, forcing me to look into his eyes with his penetrative heated stare. "Listen to me," his voice was quiet and husky. "Elijah Mikaelson is not your friend. He's dangerous and you cannot trust him."

I glared at him. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you."

I waited. I waited for him to admit that he remembered the sad girl next door. I waited for him to take me in his arms and help me escape.

But it didn't come.

Silence lingered between us until I pushed him, hard on the shoulder and walked out of his cage. "That's what I thought."

I walked back to the party, Damon trailing me in my wake.

Klaus was talking to Louis when I walked into the ballroom, probably making arrangements for us to leave. When he saw me, his eyes darkened but a pleased smile tugged at his lips. "Kitten," he said, tugging me to him so my back was flush against his chest. His arm went around my waist and I tilted my head knowing he'd want to kiss my neck and own his mark. His lips were harsh against my sensitive skin, clearly, this was for show. "You taste incredibly sweet."

His gaze locked with Damon's who looked on with a straight face. Klaus saw a new toy he could play with. Whatever happened in the last few hours changed their dynamic completely. Damon went from partner to bitch, which made me wonder what Klaus has on Damon. "Would you like a taste, Damon? She's quite lovely, isn't she?"

Damon smiled, genially, taking the taunt in stride. "I'd hate to ruin my appetite, I have something extremely delectable waiting for me at my hotel."

Klaus chuckled. I gagged.

"Louis's on top of getting your room ready at the compound. You'll move in tomorrow," Klaus explained.

Damon shook Klaus's hand before he left. "Good evening, Klaus," he said, ignoring me in Klaus's arms.

In the limo, driving back to the compound, I tried to find the words to ask Klaus about my birth-control shot but wasn't sure how. Along with all the new information gathered in the past few hours, the knowledge that if he fucked me tonight, I could get pregnant, weighed on heavily on my mind. He was in a good enough mood, keeping me close to him the entire ride while he answered emails on his phone. I was close to falling asleep when he nudged me awake. "I have something to show you."

He held out his phone for me to look at. I made to take it, but he pulled it out of my reach, tsk-ing. "Look, but don't touch, Elena."

With his other hand placed firmly on my thigh, he showed me the picture on his screen. It was a picture of an old castle, but as he scrolled through the photos, it was clear that this castle was anything but old, it was outfitted with modern amenities and touches. A theater room, a full kitchen with the latest appliances, a dining room with a long granite table and high winged back chairs made of a dark oak, carved in intricate patterns, a bedroom with the biggest bed four poster I've ever seen, made of the same dark oak material as the chairs in the kitchen. The wood was carved to look like tree branches, interconnected, and then he scrolled to an art room, with paints and mediums of every color and a couple of easels facing a small stone window. He scrolled to an areal shot of the castle, with high stone walls surrounding the massive property, protecting anyone from entering, or escaping.

"Is this…" I started.

"My home," he finished. "It's still being worked on, but it'll be ready in a few months."

I suddenly felt ill. "You want to leave the compound?"

He squeezed my thigh, tightly enough to leave a mark. " _We_ are leaving the compound because I said so."

I sucked in air, the pressure he was putting on my thigh was too much but making any noise of complaint wouldn't end well for me. I knew I had to change the direction this conversation was going. He wanted me to be happy, so I would be.

"It's beautiful," I replied, trying to sound sincere. It looked more like a Klaus style prison. "I love your bedroom, the bed is fit for a king."

He released pressure. "You'll be sleeping with me. I want to wake up with you tucked by my side, ready for me."

I wouldn't get my own room. I'd truly be trapped. It was something out of a fairytale, but the dark original version in German meant to scare children. I'd be trapped in a castle with my very own dragon holding me captive. At least at the compound, I was surrounded by a city and I had my own room. Klaus's castle was surrounded by fields of green with a giant wall keeping people from entering. This must be what Elijah was talking about. He must want to get the information on Damon before Klaus made his move and somehow I couldn't help but think Damon was the key to all of this.

I put on a smile. "I'm so grateful to you, Klaus."

He growled, moving me so my face was pressed into the leather seat and my ass in the air, his hand stroked my back, and I purred like a cat, while his other hand held my neck to the leather like a vice. My body, my traitorous body would always respond to the violence of his touch. It didn't matter that I was repulsed by him, my body was always greedy for attention, always primed and ready for what was to come.

He pushed my dress around my waist and reached around, his hand splayed on my lower abdomen, holding me close, his chest flush against my back. He lowered his hand, stroking my sex. I could feel the buttons from his shirt dig into my back as I writhed beneath his touch.

Words that I couldn't utter repeated themselves over and over in my head. _I do not want this. I do not want this. I do not want this._

Klaus leaned over and bit my neck, as his index finger entered me, then with another, he pumped into me. "You are so wet for me. So wet for your king."

I sighed as he spread my juices around my sex, circling my clit and then pinching it, hard. I screamed into the black leather seats, and then I could feel him. His hard cock skimming my sex before he rammed into me, balls deep. I let out another scream, surprised by the intrusion. Klaus continued his assault, pulling out and ramming back in, a bestiality in his rhythm. His hands had moved to my hips, pulling me up to my knees until he could get deeper. My hands tried to find traction so I wouldn't slip and land face first on the seats, I grabbed the sides of the leather, trying to suppress my climax. I wouldn't give him that. I wouldn't let him think I wanted this. It was the only way to fight back.

I felt him jerk inside of me.

"No, no, no, Klaus. Stop," I yelled. He couldn't come in me.

He stopped. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, squeezing. He leaned down so his lips were on my ear. "You know not to say no, kitten," he said, deadly quiet. Then his cock slammed into me, I cried out, shocked by the sudden assault. But I had to tell him. He had to know or he'd be even madder.

"I'm…" his cock slammed into my sex, "…not," he pulled slightly out. "on," slam. "birth," pull out. "control." Slam.

His cock twitched, he shuddered, and I could feel his release fill me. He grunted, his hand reach around as he stroked my clit. I could feel him hardening once more. "Yes," he said. "You will come for me, Elena, and I'm going to fill you with my seed until your belly is round with my child."

Tears pooled in my eyes. No…no…no, but as his strokes continued, I felt the coil that had begun to tighten in me. My inner walls clenched around his hardened cock. We came at the same time. I fell to the leather seats, spent. Klaus fell on top of me, his shirt still on. He slowly pulled out and leaning over my trembling body, kissed my back, licking the sweat off my spine, while I sobbed into the seats. Always wanting to see my tears, he flipped me over and tore the dress off of me, leaving the metallic ring around my neck that held the fabric together, awkwardly hanging around my neck like a collar.

He started again, ready to play with his pliable toy. Biting, clawing, stroking, entering me without warning while I stared at the ceiling of the limo, praying he'd have his fill of me and let me sleep in my room tonight. He wanted me tied to him in every way and bringing a baby into this world would ensure that I'd never leave him, or more likely, he'd never let me go.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Before his fallout with Klaus, Elijah gave me a memoir to read about a psychiatrist who survived the Holocaust. He called it my homework, to be discussed the next day. While the memoir focuses on how to have hope and find meaning in the direst of circumstances and how that alone can save a soul, I focused on the author's ability to disassociate himself from the hell he was in. Instead of feeling lost and sorry for himself, something no one could blame him for, he took himself out of the physical and psychological pain of being a prisoner and treated the camp like he would a case study on human survival. If you can't change the situation you're in, you can change your outlook on the situation. That's how he survived.

I don't know why Elijah gave me that book, our discussion following my reading never focused on that. Maybe he wanted to keep me from killing myself with the sheer knowledge that it could get worse. I wasn't living in the bowels of hell, starving, living in barracks with hundreds of other people, forced to work for people that wanted me and millions of others dead, or forced to watch loved ones die over and over again. But while reading that book, my take away wasn't that it could get worse, it was that I could survive if I dissociated myself from physical pain. I could survive if I remained mentally strong. I could survive so long as I focused on how to survive, not why.

The night of the party, Klaus didn't let me go to my room, instead, he kept me in his bed. I'd wake up throughout the night feeling him enter me, not because he couldn't get enough of me, but because he was mad with compulsion. Obsessed with the idea of getting me pregnant and building his legacy.

As he fell asleep, Klaus held me as he had never held me before, one arm around me with his hand splayed on my stomach, his head almost tucked into the nape of my neck, one leg tossed over mine. I didn't feel precious or loved, I felt owned. Before yesterday, I would've said that I felt like a car nearing the end of its warranty but can't be traded in due to internal and external damage. Now, I almost felt more human. Needed.

Needed…needed….needed.

A dangerous thought.

It was as though I passed some loyalty test last night when I slapped the FBI agent and didn't completely break down after Damon shot him. Klaus thought I slapped him because he hit on me, he thought I saw him for what he was, and maybe that's partially true, but in reality, if Klaus ever found out that I knew he was an FBI agent and didn't directly tell Klaus, I'd be dead.

Klaus talked of his legacy in the limo on the way to the party, he used the word, "our." Maybe that was a game and he was planning on using me to birth his child and then kill me, but now…now, this feels more permanent. We never stop needing water, food or shelter, what if Klaus realized he needs companionship? Maybe even love? God, Klaus realizing he needs love? I could never give him what he needed if it was something emotional. I'd give him my tears, my words, my body, but I'd never let him make me feel something for him.

As though he could read my thoughts, he tugged me closer, sighing satisfactorily into the nape of my neck. I could feel his breath tickle the hair on my shoulders. And I let him. I let him think he owned me. Think he had me within his grasp forever. I let him draw me in until he was enveloping my entire body, and I fell asleep to the knowledge that if he needed me, I wasn't going to die, and held onto that.

I felt teeth dig into my back and suck. I yelped, waking up with a jolt. "Jesus Christ, Klaus!"

He chuckled deeply, flipping me over so I was on my back, the cool sheets eased the pain of what was sure to be an ugly hickey. Another ugly hickey. Fucking hell. Klaus's mouth found mine, hovering over me, catching me by surprise. His tongue slips into my mouth and he bruises my lips with his as he devours me. And I let him because I understood the alternative only too well.

This is our dance. How much is he going to demand and how much am I willing to take and the answer is always the same. I will give whatever he demands so long as I keep my thoughts and my secrets. Klaus loves our little dance, the constant push and my lack of pull. It's almost as if he thinks of new ways to catch me off guard and see how far he can push me until I inevitably cry. Sometimes I push back, in my own ways. Catch _him_ off guard.

My hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush on my naked body. I felt him moan on my lips, his eyes closed as I writhed against his already hardened cock, creating friction between his dick and my sex. "Niklaus," I cooed, raking my teeth down his neck. "I need you."

Power.

My uncle did say that I was only good for my three holes and I knew from experience that there was power in that.

Klaus's eyes flash open and he growls. He lifts himself up slightly, placing a hand next to me on the bed, so he could trail his length down my sex. Slowly. My back arches on cue, feeling need coil up within me. Fuck. I was supposed to be in control but my traitorous body had other plans and him abandoning me at this moment seemed crueler than if he decided to whip me.

"What do you need, Elena?" His cock trailed my sex again, except he used his index finger to pinch my clit. I cried out, not in pain but in fucking pleasure. Fuck. I fucking can't enjoy this.

"What do you need, Elena?" He repeats.

My eyes lock with his, giving him what he needs. Except…maybe I could turn this around. His blue-green eyes demand more of something he'd never admit to. Something that would give me power. "Make love to me," I beg, looking dead into his widening sea-green eyes, trying to find something in there I could latch onto and use.

Conflict. I could use that.

I kissed his shoulder, his clavicle, his neck, his chin, and lightly pressed my lips to his, but he gave me nothing back. He hovered over me, his eyes searching everywhere around us. So confused. He was on the verge of either taking me hard and fast with an intensity to squelch any conflict he had towards me.

"Make love to me, Niklaus," I pant, taking my hand, with the lightest of touches, I slightly moved his chin, forcing _him_ to give _me_ his eyes. "Love me, Niklaus. Love me."

Tears trailed down my cheeks. Sincere tears because I wasn't entirely sure I wouldn't end up in the cage for this.

"Love me," I repeated through my tears. "Show me you love me."

His eyes softened. He bends down and he kisses me, not a lip bruising kiss, but a soft one. "Kitten," he whispers affectionately. "My sweet, beautiful kitten."

He partially enters me, waiting for me to adjust to the fullness. He slightly pulls out and slams into me. I gasped my back arching, begging for more. "Lock your legs behind me, kitten."

I bite my lip and nod wrapping my legs around his torso, he rocks into me. Our eyes stay locked as he rhythmically moves in and out of me, and for those moments, as he searches my eyes for truth in my pleas, I know he sees what he wants to see, me blindly needing his possession. Me wanting to bear his child and forever remain attached to him. My loyalty. But this gentle Klaus is a lie and it's not enough and for the briefest of moments, he sees the doubt flicker in my eyes, the truth I was trying to hide.

The tension inside me builds, begging for release. After being with Klaus for so long, it's agonizing being without pain. "More," I gasp, I plead. "Harder."

But he slows down, holding back his own release to torture me, leisurely fucking me like he has all the time in the world. Frustrated, I reach down and try to press my thumb to my clit, but Klaus slaps my hand away. "No. I'm in charge here," he reminds me. "I'm in charge. I'll give you want I want to give you and you'll take it."

He pulls all the way out of me and I grab onto his arms in protest, keeping my legs locked behind him. "Please," I cry, fighting to keep him in that moment. "Please."

Fuck. Fuckity fuck I ruined this.

"No," he hisses. "You want it harder?"

Klaus smacks my leg with a deafening slap. I scream, releasing my hold. He flips me over, grabs my hips, and pulls me to my knees. The palm of his hand slaps my bare ass. I use my elbows to prop myself up as he continues his ministrations, my head pounding into the mattress with each mark. I don't cry. I don't speak, instead, I take deep breaths and try to go to another place, because it's all I know how to do at this point. I tried to fight my way, and now it's time to retreat.

I tell myself that when I go back to my room, I'll allow myself to fall apart. I'll allow myself to cry because I needed it harder. I didn't want him to make love to me, I wanted him to abuse me, to take me hard and fast and get it the fuck over with. What was wrong with me? Don't normal people want to make love? Want to be caressed and cared for? I couldn't do it for ten minutes, just to gain some sort of upper hand with Klaus?

If he thought I loved him, if he thought I was devoted to him, and needed him, he might not notice that I'm collecting information so I can leave him. He might not notice the level of betrayal I dream about severing him. The gun I'd love nothing more than to press to his temple and pull the fucking trigger. But my traitorous body had to demand more. It needed pain to gain pleasure. How fucked up was that?

The moment I feel the absence of his hand on my backside, he thrusts into me with such force, a guttural scream escapes my lips. "That's right, kitten." He said, his arm reach around me and pinch my nipples. I sigh and feel myself shake, my entire body moving with his command. He trails his hand from my nipple to clit and lazily circles it once, twice, three times before he pinches, hard. I gasp. Yes, yes, this is what I need.

"We aren't like other people," he says, his cock moving in and out of me. "We need pain." His index finger starts circling my clit once more, once, twice, pinch. I cry out again, feeling myself on the edge of climax. "We need this." He kisses my back, pulling me flush against him. "We need this to feel." He bites and sucks my shoulder-blade. "We aren't normal. We're special."

With that, I let out a scream as my climax explodes around me, Klaus's release follows soon after. His come fills me, I feel it in me and it makes me so sick it's taking everything in me not to run to the bathroom and vomit into the basin.

Klaus collapses on top of me, kissing my neck. "I knew the moment I grabbed you that you'd be special," he says into the crook of my neck. "We're alike, you and I."

Sobs overcome me. I wasn't strong enough to wait for my room to surrender to my despair. His touch, his kisses, his words are my despair.

We lay like that, Klaus holding me with one hand while the other threads his fingers through my long hair. After a time, I decide it's safe to ask Klaus a question that's been on my mind since last night, but I have to phrase it so I'm intentions aren't obvious. "Why must I have a bodyguard? Can't Louis look after me?"

Klaus chuckles, tsking. "Kitten, Louis takes care of day to day operations, I need to know where you are at all times."

I fake concern, narrowing my eyes in concentration. "I thought Damon was your partner, why would you have your partner watch me?"

Klaus's chuckles turn into actual laughter bordering on maniacal. "Oh, I enjoy Damon, but he made the mistake of showing his hand too early in the game. I knew I had something he wanted, but when I realized what it was, it made it so much easier to take what I needed from him, which is what I did last night. Now he has to show a little more respect."

"By guarding me?" I ask.

Klaus sits up so pillows support his back and props me up. His hands graze through my hair, part it and he starts to braid. "Damon guards you because I told him to and he isn't asinine enough to let anything happen to you, I trust that."

"How do you know?"

He sighs in a way that tells me I'm pushing my luck. "I have leverage."

I didn't dare ask what kind of leverage Klaus had on Damon. Klaus's dexterous fingers twine through my hair, continuing the complex braid. He does this sometimes, he'll have me strip naked and kneel in front of him in his office while he takes a conference call braiding my long and thick hair. I asked him why he liked braiding it and he said it helps him think. He said it helps relax his mind. He likes me vulnerable in his hands. I don't care if I have to strip while Louis is taking notes, if it puts Klaus in a good mood, I'll do it.

I try to choose my next words carefully. "You are so clever, Klaus," I start. "I can't possibly imagine anything you'd need from someone like Damon."

Klaus tugs my hair a little harder as he winds strands together. "Someone like Damon?"

"Weak," I reply. This pillow talk is turning into a dangerous game of how much information can I gather. "You've known him for such a short time, and he already gave you what you need. He must be weak."

"Information is power, and I happen to have information Damon needs. Love made him weak and love caused him to slip up, but I still need him to finalize my plans," Klaus finishes, letting the plait fall down my back. "I want you to behave for Damon, but if anything unusual happens, tell me right away. He'll start guarding you full time once this deal has gone through."

I nod, the Damon portion of the discussion was over. "What would you like me to wear today?"

"Let's shower together and I'll pick something out."

Shower meant Klaus wanted a blow job, but it also meant he was in a good mood. Whatever deal was made last night, must've been exceptional. His moods came and went, and though he grew angry during sex, he seems to have recovered quickly, which meant he either trusted me or is more powerful than he's ever been. I'd argue it's a combination of the two. Which isn't good for me and it certainly isn't good for anyone in a thousand mile radius of him.

XXX

Klaus picks out my clothing. It's not always a bad thing, because he has expensive taste, but I'm usually in dresses. Easy access, he says. I should be grateful, there are days where I walk around completely nude. He lets my bruises bloom and decorate my skin, showing off the power he has over everyone, including the woman he shares a bed with. Today I'm wearing a deep purple sundress with a halter neck made of braided fabric. He rebraided my hair after the shower, so it lays down my back while I read on my bed, in my small room. Klaus told me to not leave my room today because there's a lot going on in his organization right now, and he needs to know where I am and that I'm safe.

On other days, I spend them mainly in my room, waiting for Klaus to beckon me, but sometimes I wander the compound. I've been begging Klaus for running clothes, but he refuses to get me any. He says he's worried it'll encourage me to run away from him. To stay lean and strong, I usually walk laps around the compound and sit-ups and push-ups in my room. I crave running, something I haven't been able to do freely since I was twelve. At least with Marcus, I was able to run away for periods of time, always returning before he woke up from his drunken stupor to fix him dinner.

I'm hoping Louis comes in soon. He usually checks in on me, just to see if I need anything before he tends to Klaus. I think Louis is the only person Klaus truly trusts, which is why I need to talk to him, but if I go to him, it'll draw too much attention to myself.

There's a tap at my door. It's probably Louis bringing me lunch, or Louis bringing me to Klaus. God, I don't think I can go another round with him. Maybe he'll just want a quick fuck and let me go back to reading.

"Come in," I shout.

The doorknob clicks, and before they can even walk in, I know who it is. That familiar pull within me tugs, heightening all my senses. My skin tingles, I can smell the soap he used this morning, the dangerous hope that bubbles within me come to the surface. The feeling, the overwhelming need is something that I am trying to suppress, something I need to suppress, or it'd only lead the detriment of all of us.

He stands at the door and looks around the room, peering at all of the little knick-knacks I've collected. He waits, giving me an opportunity to turn him away before he enters my room to examine my things up close. I sit with my book in hand, but my eyes are on him. He runs a hand through his wavy raven hair, his jaw clenches when he sees the dress from last night, torn and flung over my chair. He pushes up the sleeves of his cream henley, placings his hands on his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. He's lean, but strong, powerful and cut. The sinewy muscles ripple through his shirt, but what captures my attention is his eyes. Always his eyes, a crystalline grey-blue that sees right through me.

And for the hundredth time since I saw him for the first time in eight years, last night, I wonder if he remembers me, the sad girl next door he used to ask to sing. The girl that he scolded for not doing her homework. But I was twelve when he last saw me, different. I'm harder now, more worn, and I've survived on my own for too long.

"Can I help you?" I ask, breaking the silence.

He raises his eyebrows and for a moment I wonder if he wants what all the others want, me at my knees in front of him. Did someone not explain the rules? I belong to Klaus and he does not share.

Instead, he takes a step back and gazes at the wall with the mural of the ocean painted on it, his fingers reach out and he touches the protruding streaks of blue, white, and grey paint. "Did you do this?" He asks.

I place my book on my nightstand, and sit up, tucking my legs beneath my body. I look at the hours upon hours of work I put into the wall, noticing the way I mixed cobalt blue with a deep purple to create an almost dreamlike depth to my ocean. It wasn't an exact representation of the ocean I spent hours looking at, but how I saw it, with my own mermaid, silhouetted in black on her own rock, looking out as I look on. "Yeah," I reply so quietly, it's an octave above a whisper.

"Is this a place you know?" He asks, and I silently curse myself. He doesn't remember, if he did, surely he'd recognize the way the rocks protrude from the earth's surface, the way the waves splash up against them.

He paces my room, looking at the painting from different angles, stopping occasionally to run his index finger along the wall, tracing my strokes. "From a time that's practically a dream at this point," I answer.

He turns, startled by my reply. "That's too bad, it seems like a place I'd like to visit."

My cheeks warm with pleasure from his words. No one every really compliments my art, except maybe Louis.

He continues. "Maybe the only way to see your ocean is if I visit your room."

Now I raise my eyebrows. "What do you want, Damon?"

Damon ignores my inquiry and continues to peer at my things, picking up a book and reading the back, or opening my desk, pulling out a sketch pad and flipping through it. I don't know why I let him, but I feel almost like a voyeur, watching him and looking at his every reaction while the digs through the few possessions I have.

It isn't until I see him take out a sketchbook with a black leather cover that I leap up and swiftly take it from his hands. "What do you want?" I repeat.

"I'd be kind to me if I were you," he says, a mischievous glint in his eye. I want to punch him for making me think he was any different. He probably does want me on my knees, the whore here to serve every man's desire.

"Klaus has rules about fucking the help, if that's what you're getting at," I spit out.

He chuckles and sits on the bed, relaxing his back on my pillows, and placing his hands behind his head like he's laying out by the pool. "I'm sure there are plenty who've broken Klaus's rules."

I scoff, mouth open, hands on my hips.

To prove his point, he reaches into his back pocket and tosses the flip-phone Matt dropped in my purse last night. I catch it with ease and gaze at it like he just tossed me a ticking time-bomb. Shit.

"I've been asking around about you," Damon says. "And from what I've heard, you aren't allowed access outside the compound, so why would you have a phone?"

I stand with the phone in my hands, opening and closing it, wondering how I got myself into this situation. I toss it back to him, he easily catches it with one hand. "I don't know where you got this from, but it isn't mine."

Deny, deny, deny. He can't prove anything.

His eyebrows raise and he wears a mock frown. "Then I wonder what would happen if I dial home."

He opens the phone, which he must've already inspected because I had no fucking clue there was a speed dial for home. I'm in a state of confusion. If I let him call home, will the FBI implicate him? Will he know that Matt came to me wanting me to spy on Klaus? If Damon gives that phone to Klaus, he'd connect it to Matt and I'd be dead. Dead for lying. Dead for even speaking to the FBI.

I jump on Damon, catching him off guard and straddling my legs around his waist, I snatch the phone out of his hands. My hand rests on his chest to prevent myself from falling over. I can feel his heart race. His breathing shallows and I can feel him harden against my ass. His lips are the palest shade of a velvet pink, they part as he tries to control his impulses. My body warms with our connection and I feel my own need grow. We stare into each other's eyes for seconds, minutes, hours, our breathing shallow and in sync, until I decide to act. Unable to control myself, I slowly rock my hips, I hike my dress up and twist my hips, knowing Damon can see through the sheer fabric, knowing he can see my nipples pebble, knowing at this moment, I'm in control. Damon groans, his hands skimming my ankles to my calves, he grabs my thighs and slides just barely, so I'm positioned on his hardened length, holding me steady on top of him. I circle my hips, feeling my skin flush with pleasure from my naked sex rubbing against his jeans.

I lean forward, the phone still in one hand, and allow my breasts to skim his chest. Damon's eyes close like he's trying to control himself and I observe the way his long eyelashes fan on his skin. I want to touch them, run my finger along his visage and memorize every curve. I want to kiss him, softly like the prince in Sleeping Beauty. Just once, before our worlds inevitably fall apart. But suddenly, his eyes flash open and he pushes me off. I fall to the floor with a thunk, but it doesn't hurt as badly as the obvious rejection. He sits up. "You can't do that," he pants.

I try to prop myself up, trying to hide the obvious hurt in my demeanor. "Do what?"

"Treat me like you treat him," he says. He picks up the phone that clattered to the floor when I fell and hands it to me. "I won't say anything."

Isn't he worried I'll report him too? He must know what the phone is for.

He stands up, straightening his shirt, and walks to the door. Before he leaves, he turns around. "Be careful and don't trust anyone."

"I thought you were my guard," I say because I know I have to say something but I can't let him leave like this, after that.

"I'll always guard you, Elena."

I want to say, where were you eight years ago, or where have you been for eight years, or where were you last night when Klaus fucking me over and over like a man possessed, but I don't. Instead, I let him leave.

I get up and go to the bathroom to wash my face, and when I look in the mirror, my cheeks are flushed and the braid Klaus did came loose. I splash water on my face and try to rebraid my hair. If Klaus saw that it came undone, he'd flip. When he braids my hair, it means he wants my hair braided.

When I walk back into the room, I crawl under my bed and pry open a loose brick from the wall. I place the phone next to my journal and put the brick back, making sure it blends in with the rest of the wall.

I crawl from beneath the bed and walk over to my desk. I pick up the leather-bound sketchbook and flip through it. I stop on a charcoal sketch of a boy in a leather jacket, next to a Camaro. The next page is a profile sketch, I spent so long trying to get the long eyelashes and the sharp cheekbones just right. When Klaus flipped through the same notebook, I told him that the boy was how I imagined him as a teen. He loved that. I loved that only I knew the truth.

I place the book back in my desk and decide it's time to hunt Louis down. He's probably in the kitchen, overseeing preparations for dinner. I walk the maze of Saltillo tile hallways, through the large and lush courtyard, past the fountain of St. Mary, to the kitchens. The compound houses twenty-five employees and fifty of Klaus's guards. He has compounds throughout the world, but I've only seen them in pictures. Klaus doesn't really like to take me off the grounds much, and when he does go, he locks me in my room, only allowing Louis to visit me and bring me food. Actually, he doesn't like it when I do leave my room because he says he likes to know where I am at all times.

I tiptoe into the kitchens and immediately the smell of roast lemon rosemary chicken engulfs my senses. I spot Louis frame, he's leaning down talking to someone, but as I walk closer, I realize that he's not talking but making out with David, the executive chef on the compound. Louis groans, and pushes David against the wall. David catches my shocked expression from the corner of his eye and pushes Louis off of him. Louis staggers and looks around, startled. I gape like an idiot and suddenly I realize why Klaus trusts Louis around me.

"Sorry!" I squeak.

David laughs, while Louis gives him a scathing look. "I guess our secret is out."

I shake my head. "I'm not saying anything!" I use my index finger to cross my chest. "I swear."

This only makes David laugh harder. "It's not you I'm worried about."

Louis is as white as a ghost, he looks panicked. "Mr. Mikaelson doesn't approve of relationships within the organization."

Louis has always kept his distance from me, never touching me. Worried about what Klaus might do, was my guess. I walk up to Louis, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him on the cheek. "Then he'll never find out."

I feel Louis stiffen within my embrace, but after a few embarrassing seconds, he relaxed and returns the hug. When he lets go, he wipes the corner of his eyes with his thumb. Who knew Louis was such a softy?

David squeezes my shoulder appreciatively.

"Were you looking for me, Elena?" Louis asks.

I quickly turn my head and check that we're alone when my eyes fall on David, I question whether I can trust him. I don't know him as well, and he's new to the compound after moving from Klaus's compound in France.

"You can trust me," David answers my unasked question.

I nod and glance at Louis, gazing into his green eyes. If he can't do this, I'm screwed. "I need the Plan B pill, and then I need you to get me birth control."

He shakes his head like I'm crazy, slowly backing away from me. "Elena, Klaus will kill me."

"Louis, Klaus wants to bring a child into this world, and I will not do it. I'll kill myself rather than bring up a child in a world of bullets, drugs, and whatever other crazy shit Klaus is into," I say determinedly.

"You think Klaus doesn't watch me? He has eyes everywhere, we shouldn't even be talking about this," Louis argues.

"I know you can get it," I refute. "You have your ways."

"Elena, bringing you paints or a magazine isn't the same as bringing you something that will destroy what Klaus wants," Louis continues. "You know how he is, when he wants something, he makes it happen."

He's right, and I know he is, but I can't do it. The thought of being pregnant with Klaus's child makes me sick. The thought of being tied to him for the rest of my life makes me want to run from here and never look back. There has to be a way. Didn't Elijah promise to get me out? What if I call the FBI and make a deal? But no matter how I look at it, both options leave me dead.

"I'll do it."

I look up to see David, arms folded, leaning against the granite countertop. "I'll do it," he repeats.

I shake my head. "I don't know you."

David strides toward us and places an arm around Louis' shoulder, kissing him sweetly on the cheek. "You trust us with this secret, it's the least I can do for you. Most of the food comes on a truck from local farms and butcheries, but a buyer from the grocery store is a friend. I don't know about birth control, but I can get you the Plan B pill."

"Can you get me a few packs?" I ask. I don't know what it will do to my system, but it buys me time until I can get birth control.

He nods. "I'll try."

"Elena," Louis says, looking at his watch. "You need to get back to your room. Klaus will be getting out of his meeting soon."

"Thank you," I say to David.

"I'll try to get it to you by tomorrow."

I have a three-day window, so that should be fine if he can get it to me without getting caught. I start walking to my room, praying Klaus is still worn out from earlier.

So much for Damon guarding me, I haven't seen him since I almost got off by rubbing myself on his jeans. Klaus did say that he still needed him, so maybe he's in Klaus's meeting. I'm not complaining, I don't really want to see Damon right now.

"What are you doing out of your room?"

Shit.

Klaus grabs my forearm and slams me against the wall. "I didn't say you could leave your room."  
Pain shoots through my head as it smacks against the wall. I have an urge to check if there's a lump or blood, but I know better. It'll only encourage him. The meeting must've not gone well, because he looks like he needs to blow off steam.

"I came looking for you," I explain. "You were gone so long, I got lonely."

He raises both of his eyebrows. "Really? You thought to look for me in the courtyard, when my office is on the other side of the compound?"

He raises a hand and slaps me across the face. "Don't lie to me, kitten."

I take the slap, refusing to bring my hands to my face to comfort myself, but it's only then that I see Damon watching this entire interaction. He looks shocked. Well, what did you expect Damon? You got in bed with a monster, the same monster that drags me to his own bed every evening.

"Klaus," Damon yells. "What are you doing?"

Klaus looks me dead in the eyes. I refuse to cry. Refuse to show any level of embarrassment. My mouth forms a thin line, I'm not saying a word.

"Stay out of it, Damon," he replies, still looking at me. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. "Do you want to risk what I know? The information I have? Are you willing to do that?"

Damon looks unsure. When I catch his eyes, I give a slight nod, telling him it's okay if he goes. He lets out an exasperated sigh and leaves. He must've seen that there's no way to win this battle.

Klaus runs the back of his hand down my cheek. "Kitten," he purrs. "What were you doing out of your room?"

I force a playful smile to my lips. "I was so excited about the possibility of being pregnant, that I asked Louis to get me a pregnancy test."

I'm going to vomit, surely he isn't going to buy the obvious saccharin in my voice.

Klaus chuckles, and I feel the tension from moments earlier dissipate. "You could've asked me for one."

I wear a mock frown. "And how would you have reacted if I wasn't pregnant?"

He growls and dips down to bite the other side of my neck, the one with out the bruised hickey. My back arches as he devours my neck. Over his shoulder, I see a tall shadow lurking and then leave.

When Klaus releases me, he tugs at the straps of my sundress. "Off, kitten. I want to see your flesh."

Normally, I wouldn't care because I'm so used to Klaus asking for this. Everyone on the compound has seen my naked body, but with Damon roaming close by, I am suddenly embarrassed. Repulsed that I'm not allowed to be modest. I pout. "Let's go back to your room."

With both hands, Klaus rips the dress clean down the side. "If you didn't leave your room, no one would have to see you, you'd have nothing to pout about," he says though clenched teeth. He nips at my ear. "Do you like Damon? Is that why you're suddenly modest?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. If Klaus knows how I feel about Damon, he'll surely figure out our connection and Damon will be dead before the night's over.

I pull the rest of the dress off my body, leaving me completely nude. "I'm going to have your child. Why would I ever want someone who works for the most powerful man in the world?"

Klaus leans over and takes a nipple in his mouth, biting. I yelp.

"Good answer," he says, releasing me.

With his arm wrapped around me, he walks me to his room, where I'm sure I'm in for another long night.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Thanks for reading! I'm barely into the story, so have patience. This is a slow burn. If you enjoy my little fic, please review! -Jackie

*Warning: This is a very dark romance filled with betrayal, pain, doubt, love, and angst.*

Chapter 5

I've been locked in my room for almost two days. Klaus left the compound the morning after he caught me out of my room, and has been gone for a couple days. It's hours until my time is up to take the Plan B pill, and I'm worried Klaus will come back in town at any moment. I decide to sneak out of my room and try to find David or Louis, worried they heard what happened between me and Klaus and decided helping me was too great a risk.

Instead of going through the courtyard to get to the kitchen, I slip out my door and go around the back, past Klaus's offices. Wherever he went, Damon went with him because I haven't seen either of them in a couple days. Though it's been nice not having Klaus around, it also creates an ominous void on the compound. I'd pray Klaus will die while he's away, get shot or maybe someone messed with the wires on his plane and it crashed, but he's like a cockroach and will always survive.

There are cameras on the compound, but they're watching for people who may enter, not what goes on in the compound. Klaus's paranoia knows no bounds and prefers to rule by fear. It's almost as though he'd see viewing opposing acts on a screen would be cheating. Klaus prefers to rule through fear, people tell on other people, he has guards constantly roaming the premises. Cameras can be subpoenaed and used against him. He's better at manipulating people than a recording. Can't kill a recording once it's in custody.

I take a path where I know no one will see me and head to the kitchens. When I get there, David is preparing for dinner, rolling out pasta dough. I look around to see if anyone else is in the room.

"Did you get it?" I ask.

He nods, walks to the pantry, and comes out with a white paper bag labeled, Peter Pan Pastry Shop. "I thought you might like their coconut lace cookies."

"Thank you," I whisper before running out of there.

I take the quickest way back to my room, praying Klaus still isn't back, running through the courtyard, but I don't make it far. Klaus is walking out from his offices, going to the other side of the compound. I try to dart behind the fountain of St. Mary, but Klaus sees me. He strides toward me, a mad glint in his eye. I can't run, I can't toss the bag in the fountain, I can't avoid what is about to happen, and I pray it's a quick death.

"Out of your room, again?" he shouts. "Visiting one of the guards from the barracks while I was gone? Which one was it?"

God was he insane?

Keeping the bag behind my back, I shake my head. "No, Klaus."

"What's behind your back?"

Fuck. This is it.

I take a deep breath and brace myself.

"It's my fault," David yells, running out. He stands behind me and grabs the white bag from my hand. "I wanted Elena to try cookies from a new supplier to see if you'd like them."

Klaus looks doubtful. "You couldn't give them to Louis to put on her lunch tray?"

David's head bows guiltily. "I'm new here, I didn't know."

"Try one of the cookies, Elena," Klaus orders. "Tell me if I'll like it."

He thinks this whole story is garbage, but he doesn't know what's in the bag. I don't know what's in the bag, except I know if Klaus figures out there are pills that will immediately destroy the potential for a pregnancy, he'll kill me. I take the bag from David's hand and reach in. I can feel the pack of pills, but I also feel a cookie. I breathe a sigh of relief and take the cookie from the bag. I take a bite, chew and swallow. It's the most disgusting cookie I've ever had, not because of the taste, but because of the amount of pressure I'm under while I chew. "Klaus doesn't like coconut," I finally say to David, because at this moment, I have to be truthful, it's the only way we're going to be able to pull off the lie.

David makes a move to take the bag back. "I'll…"

A shot rings through the air and hits David in the face. Blood splatters all over the pink maxi dress I'm wearing. "No!" I scream, dropping the white bag while I fall to my knees.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to get shot, I was supposed to die, not David. This wasn't his fault. I had to ask for his help. Klaus puts his gun back in the inside of his jacket and picks up the white bag that fell on the floor. I don't bother looking at his reaction when he sees the pills, instead, I focus on David. The guy that tried to save my life. God, and Louis. Louis is going to be heartbroken and it's my fault, I fucking did this. I should've found another way.

I hear Klaus yell in anger, pure blood-curdling anger. "You dare defy me? You go behind my back and try to kill what's mine?"

I hear guards come, but don't bother looking up. My chest heaves as I sob into the ground. This is my life and there's no out. I know what's coming. I hear the ominous scraping of metal on tile. Klaus grabs me by the hair and pulls me on my knees to the cage door. "In!" He yells.

I crawl and curl into a ball in while his guards lock the door, preparing myself for what's to come. "You will do as I say," he yells. "You will bare my children, but it seems as though you still need to learn your place."

When I know Klaus has gone, I dare look up from my huddle. Klaus placed the cage next to David's dead body. It's so close, blood seeps into the cage floor. I can smell death waft from his lifeless body.

My fault.

I did this.

Me.

XXX

Klaus let me keep my clothes, although it could've just been an oversight, or it could be part of his game. Make me grateful for the one thing left he can take away. It's been six hours since Klaus put me in the cage. David's lifeless body remains beside the bars. I've turned away from it, remaining huddled in my corner. The cage is small, I can't stand up or stretch completely out, but it's large enough that I have room to sit up completely, and lay down if I tuck my legs into my body. I think it was made for a small tiger like I didn't deserve a full tiger size cage. Steel bars surround me, and they're so close together, I can't even stick my hand out.

Guards march by on one of their routine night drills, some of them leer hungrily at me, make obscene gestures with their hands, but no one dares come near the cage. I haven't seen Louis and I wonder how he's doing. Is he mad at me? Of course, he is, how could he not be. Louis flat out refused to get me the pills, he knew it was dangerous. If I had never gone to him. If I had never left my room. If I had just waited. These thoughts plague my mind while I lay with my head up, looking through the bars at the clouds in the night sky.

"Looks like rain," says the thick accent that I loathe. His hands clasp the bars, and he peers down at me, making me feel small and defenseless, much like the kitten he always calls me.

"Let me out," I croak, shivering as a gust of wind passes. "Please."

He shakes his head, tsking. "No, no, no, kitten. Liars don't get to leave the cages they built."

My eyes narrow into a glare. "How very poetic, Klaus."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, kitten," he dramatically looks at the sky, and the ominous clouds. "I better get inside, wouldn't want to get caught in this downpour."

I roll my eyes and lay on my back and gaze up at the sky. "Good thing I like the rain," I shout, but it comes out husky and weak.

I'm lying, of course. I like the rain when I have the option to go inside, but I'm not going to let him know that. The steel bottom of the cage bites into my back, I try to shift so I can get in a tolerable position. "Get comfortable, kitten. It's going to be a wet night."

Klaus spins around in his three-piece suit and leaves. My body shivers as another gust of wind passes through. The small amount of courage I tried to hold onto dissipates. Beneath my bed in my small room, lay stacks and stacks of books. Within that stack are very worn out copies of Lord of the Rings. I read the trilogy over and over and dreamed of living in the Shire, surrounded by fields of green and people who've known me since I was a baby. But most of all, I envied Frodo's mission. I know that it arguably cost him his mortal life, but to have a purpose. One single mission, one destination, drop the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom and save Middle-Earth. Frodo had a purpose, a reason for being. I have no purpose except to serve Klaus's every need and apparently bare his children.

I'm twenty years old and I would do anything to just go to college and live in a small cinderblock dorm with a psycho roommate that steals my Diet Coke. To be able to walk around a campus with textbooks in my bag and a destination. Hell, I'd be happy living anywhere as long as I was free to roam and be a person. I think back to the castle Klaus showed me. At least here, I'm within the limits of a city, at his castle, I'd have no escape.

Rain starts to lightly ping on the bars and soak my dress. I hear distant thunder and my body shakes as rain starts coming down harder. It's an uncontrollable shiver that I feel in my bones and will not cease. I try to wrap my arms around my knees, protecting myself from the onslaught of rain. The lights are out on the compound, so my only source of light is the full moon shining through the clouds. I don't dare look at David's body, because his blood has already started to seep into my cage.

And like a perfect storm, my stomach starts to growl and my tongue feels like sandpaper. I open my mouth and try to catch drops of rain. I cough as I feel drops fall on the back of my throat.

I can survive this. The morning will come and with it, hope that tomorrow may be different.

I hear footsteps, and crawl deeper into my corner, praying it isn't one of Klaus's guards wanting to taunt me or grab at me. I turn away, trying to hide in the shadows of the cage, but suddenly, the rain stops splattering on my face. I turn and see a finger slips through the bars seeking my hand. "Damon?" I croak, giving him my index finger. He squeezes and that small physical touch, that connection between two people, is as comforting as a hug.

He sits down next to the cage, holding an umbrella in one hand, shielding me from the downpour. "How are you holding up?"

My eyes well up with gratitude, not because he's shielding me from the rain, or because he came to see me, but because he cares about how I'm doing. Tears stream down my already wet face. I shake my head, trying to hold back the onslaught of emotion I'm feeling at the moment. "You can't be here," I say. "It's dangerous."

He sighs heavily, and with his one hand, takes a granola bar out of his jacket pocket, ignoring my warning he slips it through the bars. "I thought you might be hungry."

I take it appreciatively, unwrap it and take a bite. Damon puts his finger back through the narrow bars, and I take hold of it. It could've been one of the macaroons Elijah sent me, at that moment, the peanut butter oat bar was that good.

"Does this happen a lot?" He asks while I chew.

I shrug. "Depends on how you define a lot."

He squeezes my finger. "More than once?"

I close my eyes and think about it. The first time was when I tried to run away, that was within the first few days of being in the compound, I was barely eighteen. The second time, I didn't swallow his come and accidentally spat it out all over his slacks. There was the time he thought I was hitting on one of the guards, the time I went out of bounds when the cuff was on, the worst was when I actually was able to run away. I darted out of the compound when construction workers came to build the add-on barracks. I slipped away behind a cement truck, I ran flat out for an hour, when Klaus casually pulled up in his Maserati and had a couple of his goons wrestle me into the trunk. I was in the cage for so long, I started hallucinating my parents.

"It's a dance," I finally say, a cough escapes, and I have to bend forward slightly to control it. "A push and pull between the two of us," I finish, my voice gravelly and horse.

His eyes widen. " _This_ isn't a dance," he says, knowingly. Is he thinking about our dance? When I laid my head against his chest and felt so safe.

I sniff and in a discourteous fashion wipe my nose with my arm. "It's not _our_ dance," I reply. "But it is a sort of waltz between me and Klaus."

Damon shakes his head. "I could take you to the Vienna Philharmonic Ball in the Musikverein, and I doubt you'd call what you and Klaus have a Waltz."

"Would you?" I implore before another cough attack overcomes me.

His brow furrows. "Would I, what?"

"Take me to Vienna?" I lay back against the bars and think about all the things I've seen in books. "To see the Schönbrunn Palace and walk along the Danube would be a dream."

I cough and shake, the granola bar slipping from my fingers as I try to control the hacking. I can feel it in deep in my chest. Suddenly, I feel raindrops on my forehead, a crack of thunder sounds in the distance. Damon gets up and moves to the cage door. "I'm getting you out of here," he says.

I shake my head. "No, no, no, Damon," I argue. "He'll kill you."  
"You're going to die if you stay in here," he says, easily opening a latch to the cage. "This isn't locked?"

I lean over as another cough overcomes me, when it's settled, I lean over and pull the cage closed. "Klaus knows I wouldn't leave and he knows no one is dumb enough to come and rescue me."

"What are you doing?" He asks, tugging at the bars.

"I can't let you do this. I'll be fine, it's always bad the first day," I argue, holding onto the bars so they stay closed.

Damon crouches down and looks me in the eye. He looks serious but he also looks seriously pissed. "The rain is supposed to come down harder, and it's lightning, you are sitting target out in the open, in this metal cage."

I turn and look at David's corpse. "I already caused one person to die, I will not watch you die, Damon."

Damon yanks the cage open and pulls me out. I try to struggle, I try to stay in the cage, I curse and kick, but his strength easily overpowers me. He picks me up in his arms like I weigh nothing. Warmth flows through me as he cradles me in his arms, my face buried in his chest, smelling him, taking him in. His umbrella lays against the cage, long forgotten as he runs with me in his arms to shelter.

He carries me down the familiar darkened hallway until we reach my room. Still holding me close, he opens up the door and flips on the light. Damon gently lays me on my bed, but I tug at the lapels of his jacket, not wanting him to leave. "Elena, I need to talk to you," he says, prompting me to let go of him. I release my hold and when I do, Damon rummages through my closet and finds a quilt to toss over me.

Irritated by his absence, I wrap the blanket wrapped around myself, I sit up, and another cough escapes my lips, reverberating in my chest. "You wanted to talk, talk," I croak. "You'll be dead before the sun rises, so you might as well get it out while you can."

Checking the door so that it's closed all the way, he sits next to me on my small bed. "I can help you, Elena."

"Help me, how?"  
"I can get you out, but you have to trust me," he replies seriously.

I shake my head, my wet tendrils splatter my blanket. "There's no out for me, Damon," I shrug my shoulders and hold out my hands. "This is it for me."

Damon clasps my hands in his and looks me in the eyes until our gaze locks and I know he's serious. "I promise you, I can get you out. I just need you to hold on a little longer."

Does he know me? Does he remember? Is this why he's doing it?

"You don't know me," I state, watching his eyes for a flicker of recognition. But there's none.

"I have eyes, and I see that you're in pain and trapped. I have the power to get you out, I just need a little time," he says.

I sigh, disappointed. He may have been the only one dumb enough to get me out of the cage, but I don't know him. If he doesn't remember his sad neighbor, the one who used to watch him from afar with her big eyes and tangled hair, he might as well be a stranger. Maybe if I say something. Maybe if I explain what happened that day he saw me at the beach.

My mouth hangs open, ready to ask, ready to explain how we know each other, ready to tell him why I ran that night, but something echoes in the distance. My heart races as the paces come closer and closer.

Footsteps come down the hallway, and before I can even warn Damon away or push him off of my bed, the door bursts open. Klaus is standing in the doorway flanked by three guards, taking the scene, me wet and wrapped in a blanket, Damon sitting beside me. This is not good.

He calmly walks in, I take a deep breath, and I start coughing again.

"I didn't release you, kitten," he says, too calmly. "You know I like releasing you."

Yeah, because he usually only releases me when he needs me to take care of his needs in the form of a raging hard-on.

"I….I…" I have no words. I don't know how to defend myself.

Klaus starts walking toward me, but Damon blocks his path. "It was me. I took her out, and by the way, I had to practically drag her out she's so loyal to you."

Klaus looks over at me, one of his eyes quirk up just as mine drop to examine the embroidery of my quilt. Why is Damon doing this?

I can feel Klaus's furry and it's evident by the silence in the room that he lost all the composure he came into the room with. "I didn't tell you to let her out!" He yells, stamping his foot like a child. "She's my pet, MINE! _I_ say when her punishment is over, it's not up to _you_."

My eyes flick up at the scene.

"You wanted me to protect your _pet_ ," he says pet with complete animosity in his voice, practically spitting the words. "You told me that I was her guard. That I was supposed to protect her. I wouldn't be doing my fucking job if I left her out there to die," he argues. "She was coughing and it was lightning out."

In a flash, Klaus's mood changes. Always one way or the next, his mood vacillating with every fucking emotion or calculated thought in his brain.

Klaus considers Damon, his eyes casually peering at me. "Do you fancy my pet, Damon? Did she catch you in her thrall? She's quite good at it, you wouldn't be the first."

For a fraction of a second, Damon stiffens.

Klaus cocks his head so he can see me around Damon's body. "Remember Trevor, kitten?" Klaus asks as though he's trying to recall a pleasant memory. "He was the foreman when we built the barracks. Kitten _somehow_ convinced him to look the other way."

Klaus killed him because he didn't catch me sneaking out. Klaus always has to find someone to blame for my mistakes.

"And Louis tells me a fascinating tale in which you seduced David into getting you those pills," Klaus continues. "Didn't end so well for Trevor or David, did it?"

I am paralyzed. My coughing has stopped and suddenly I wish I was back in the cage.

Damon turns to me, a cold look in his eyes.

"Kitten needs to be punished, Damon," Klaus says. "She tried to kill our baby."

Damon clenches his fists.

Klaus walks forward, bumping Damon out of the way, and this time Damon doesn't stop him. Klaus sits down next to me and tugs the quilt off of me, revealing my dirty wet dress that still clings to my skin. "She tried to take away something I want," He leans forward and trails a finger down my throat. "She needs to learn that she cannot defy me."

My breathing shallows. Is he going to rip my dress? Fuck me right here? He takes my hand and moves me so I'm sitting on his lap like I'm a ventriloquists' dummy. His hands encircle my throat from behind. "If I just squeeze, she'll lose consciousness, and then I can do whatever I want without having to hear her defiant traitorous voice."

I croak escapes my lips, and quiet sobs overcome me. Damon looks on, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Do you want to watch, Damon? I don't mind when those in my employ watch."

"I'll take it," Damon says.

Klaus's finger trails beneath my breast. I release a shudder. "Take what?" He inquires, obviously amused.

Damon's jaw flexes. Determines. "I'll take her punishment."

Klaus laughs an insane cackle. "Are you bloody serious?" He takes my chin in his hand, twisting it so he can see my face. "What did you do to my business partner, kitten?"

I shake my head.

"She didn't do anything, Klaus. I took her out of the cage when she wanted to stay in because she loves you. Punish me, I was the offender, not her."

Klaus lets go of me and gazes at Damon, whose still standing, the guards Klaus came in with continue to block the doorway behind him. "You can't do that, Damon. It's not how the game works."

Damon takes a step forward. "Don't forget, Klaus, you still need me to finish this deal with the Baltic states and Rusty Beach. I didn't listen to orders, so punish me, not Elena."

I realize the error before Damon does. The way he says my name, so familiar, warm and protective.

"Elena?" Klaus inquires. Tasting the word, the exact intonation Damon said my name. "Very well, Damon. You may have her punishment, but don't forget, _I_ still have what you want. You will give me what I need and you'll continue to protect _my_ kitten with as much enthusiasm as you have tonight. If you make the same mistake as others, falling for what's mine, remember tonight." Klaus makes a motion for the guards to come in. "Don't hold back until I say stop."

This is happening in my room? I close my eyes, swallowing the bile that comes to my throat. _Oh, God_.

Klaus's hand moves up to the back of my neck, holding it like a vice, forcing me to watch as one of the guards lands his first punch on Damon. He leans down, I can feel the heat of his breath on my ear. "Watch, Kitten. If you look away, I'll make it last longer."

As I stare, watching the guards aim blows at Damon's stomach and face. Blood splatters all over my carpet as a guard lands a punch across Damon's jaw. Klaus holds me, forcing me to watch as Damon takes my punishment. With the hand not holding my neck in a vice, Klaus runs his hand down my body.

No, no, no. Not with him here, not in front of this.

He takes my leg and moves it so I'm straddling his thigh, my dress riding up around my waist. His hand lifts my dress up higher revealing my naked sex. "Ride me, kitten."

I shake my head, no, no, no, I can't.

"Show him you belong to me or I'll make this last much longer."

I continue to shake my head, a cough escapes my lips as sobs trail down my cheeks. Damon may be taking my punishment for leaving the cage, but Klaus is punishing me for something else.

"Guards, use your batons," Klaus orders.

The guards take out their long black batons. I hear it whistle through the air before it lands a blow on Damon's back. He lets out a guttural noise as blood splatters out of his mouth.

Tears continue to drip down my face. "Stop."

He squeezes his hold on my neck. "You know what to do to make this stop."

I rock myself back and forth along Klaus's thigh.

"That's right, kitten," he encourages. "When you come, this all stops."

It's time to play my part. I lean back into Klaus, and take his hand, moving it toward my clit, forcing him to press as I rock against his thigh. But I do something that in my own way is rebelling. I picture white sheets, and a billowing curtain, dancing from the wind blowing in from the open balcony. I picture myself, sprawled across Damon's body while we read a historical novel. I picture him nibbling at my ear, annoyed that I read the page faster than him. I picture a half-eaten croissant on a bedside table, with two empty cups of coffee. I picture myself in his striped button-down shirt, and him wearing the matching bottoms. I laugh as he tickles my side, the book-strewn off to the side as he decides to devour me instead of continuing our reading. I giggle as he lays kisses all over my face. "I love you," he says over and over with each kiss like a prayer.

I cry out as I come, my breathing heavy and labored.

"Stop," Klaus immediately orders, satisfied with my little performance.

The guards stop hurting Damon. He lays on the floor in a crumpled heap, but his eyes look up, a combination of humor and fight. "Is that all you got?"

I smirk at him, knowing Klaus can't see. Damon tries to stand up but falters.

"Get him out of here," Klaus orders.

The guards take Damon by the arms and drag him out of the room. When the door shuts, Klaus gets up off the bed and walks to the door. "Come, kitten. It's time to shower."

I stand up, my legs still weak from the events of the last day. I start to trail him, but Klaus is having none of that and decides to take my hand and pull me to him. "We're going to forget today ever happened. I think you've learned your lesson," he says.

I nod. Yes, I learned my lesson.

Fight for hope.

Fight for hope.

Fight for hope.

Fight for what might be and don't settle for a life of hell.

I'll fight or I'll die.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Klaus is a heavy sleeper, but I'm usually too afraid to take advantage of it, like when I want to pry his clutches from my body. After our shower, Klaus falls asleep, hard and fast. Torture and cruelty wear him out. His arm rests over my chest, while his face is in my hair. I miss the days in the beginning when I mainly stayed in my own room. For the past few months, he's wanted me there every day and night.

I twist my body so I can detach myself from Klaus, and slip out of bed. Most of my clothes remain in his closet, so I slip on a long silk robe he brought back for me when he went to Japan. The navy robe with embroidered red roses skims the ground as I slip out of his room. It's three in the morning, so no one will be up until five. Guards are stationed outside, but none patrol the inside of the compound, working under the assumption that no one leaves without authorization and no one is allowed to enter without getting caught.

I swiftly walk the dark corridors to my room and grab my well-stocked first aid kit. I don't look at the rug, knowing I'll be on my hands and knees scrubbing Damon's blood out tomorrow, or this morning as it were.

I don't exactly know where Damon lives, but I'm pretty sure he has the new room, built a month ago. Back when I could roam the compound more freely, I saw a new wing being built. I liked watching the construction, the way bricks were laid and smoothed, the way it was framed. Klaus has been adding to the compound since I arrived, constantly adding to the perimeter or adding buildings for the new workers or guards he brings in. For as shitty of a person Klaus is, he's decent to all his employees, as long as they remain loyal, something I know only too well, especially after last night.

It's interesting that Klaus still wants Damon as my guard, insistent upon it, actually. I think Klaus needs Damon busy and is worried for him to be around his other guards. If Damon owns Rusty Beach, Klaus is paranoid enough to think he'd take over Mystic Falls as well. If Damon spends time with the guards, maybe he'd take that opportunity to turn them against Klaus. It's the only logical reasoning I can come up with.

I reach a steel door with a combination lock and a small covered window. The black charcoal paint is still fresh on the siding. A light bleeds out of the bottom of the door, and I lightly knock. When no one answers, I knock again. I hear a groan, then the window slides open to reveal Damon's very tired and puffy eyes. I smile encouragingly and wave my first aid kit. I think I hear his irritated sigh from the other side of the door until I hear a beep and the lock slide open.

He opens the door letting me in. He wears a stubborn look of indignation, but it doesn't stop me from scanning his body, taking in all the damage meant for me. He needs a doctor to stitch him up and he probably has some internal bleeding. He's bare-chested, his skin badly bruised from when the guards kicked him. He needs stitches on his cheek from where brass knuckles hit him and split his skin, and abrasions all over his arms need to be tended to. I try not to focus too long on his torso, long and chiseled like a Greek god. Klaus is ripped from working out with a personal trainer, it seems evident by the way Damon carries himself that he's built from actual hard labor and running. His strong broad arms and the deep v in his abdomen tell me that he earned every pound of muscle on his body.

I try not to stare too long, especially at the tattoo of a symbol of an eagle, an anchor, a trident and a rifle on his chest that expands to a design of a combination of tattoos on his left shoulder and part of his arm. I want to run my finger along every inch of his tattoo, I want to lick it. I want to run my teeth along it and bite his nipple, just above his heart.

"Elena?" He croaks.

I shake my head, waking up from my daze. I hold up my first aid kit and shake it. "I'm going to fix you up. You look like shit."

He lets out an exacerbated chuckle and motions me to come in his room further. "I don't want to get you in any more trouble."

"Klaus is a heavy sleeper and I owe you."

He shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything."

"You took my punishment," I argue.

"From the looks of it, you were punished anyway."

I cast him an inquiring look. I wasn't beat up.

He sighs, continuing to shake his head. "You were in a small cage for close to ten hours and then humiliated."

Ten hours? Maybe I was in there longer than I thought. "You saved me, so I owe you. End of," I point to his full bed with a slate-colored duvet. "Sit."

I pull up a chair from his oak desk and sit in front of him. I take out an ice pack and shake it, enacting the cooling properties. "Place this on your eye."

He listens while I take my time running my hand over his torso, feeling for damage. "You might have a couple broken ribs," I explain, I press in a spot and he winces. "I can get you saran wrap from the kitchens."

Damon takes hold of my hand over his rib. "I'm fine," he says.

I shake my head. "You need a doctor."

"I'm fine," he repeats. "I'm used to this."

I focus on his face and opening my kit, I take out antiseptic ointment and place it on the open cuts before cleaning them up. When I've placed butterfly bandages on them, I look at the open wound on his cheek from the right hook one of the guards must've given him with brass knuckles. It's along his cheekbone and it's deep, but not noticeable unless you looked up close. It's a clean cut but needs a few stitches so it'll heal faster.

"I can stitch this up." I don't want to puncture his skin with a needle unless he gives me the okay.

"How do you know all this?" He asks though I think he knows the answer but just wants to hear me say it out loud. I've been hit so often that Louis bought me a first aid kit. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing me say the words aloud.

I quirk an eyebrow. "I'm not going to answer that."

"Stitch me up, Florence Nightingale."

I hide my grin by licking my lips and get out the needle and medical thread for sutures. Once the needle is threaded, I move him so we're sitting in two chairs side by side. It feels good doing this for someone else, even if I was the cause of it. "Do you want pain meds?"

I have morphine in the kit and numbing cream. Louis got me the kit from a paramedic he knew or possibly fucked.

Damon shakes his head. I bite my lip and nod. He better not cry, it's going to make the stitching that much harder.

I place antiseptic over the wound and start my first stitch. Damon winces, but other than that doesn't show any pain. "It's best if you don't talk right now," I reply.

I take the needle and thread and get started, using the opportunity of forced silence to get what I need to say out. "You said you could get me out," I pause and look into his eyes, they don't flicker. His head nods ever so slightly. I continue the stitches. "I don't know you and I don't trust you. I've been with Klaus since I was barely eighteen."

Damon's hand moves to my knee and squeezes, doing things to me that I'd rather not admit. I immediately move my knee out of the way, knocking his hand off. I need to explain to Damon the severity of the situation. "In the beginning, there was a man that visited from Russia, someone high up in the Russian Federation. He was older and distinguished looking." I pause and glance at Damon, who's looking straight ahead, not moving a muscle, except his eyes are narrowed, concentrating on a vintage world map that decorates the opposing wall. I swallow and continue the stitches. "He saw me with Klaus in an intimate position. After witnessing that, I guess you could say that he developed a fixation. He offered Klaus twenty-million dollars for me. When Klaus refused to sell me," I pause and pull up the stitch, recalling that horrific night.

"Vladimir bribed one of the compound guards to abduct me and take me to Russia. The guard snuck in my room at night and drugged me. The next thing I remember is waking up in Klaus's bed. Klaus said he didn't make it far before they caught him, questioned him, and killed him. The next day there was a report in the newspaper, Vladimir Medvedev found dead in his apartment in Moscow, suicide."

I tie off the small row of stitches and cut the string. "Klaus is powerful, Damon. He can get to anyone, even if they're across the world. You think you can get me away from Klaus? You better have an army behind you."

Damon's hand brushes my cheek, mirroring his own scar with a brush of his fingers. His gaze falls on mine, sincerity in his countenance. "I'm sorry this is happening to you," he says, his voice cracking. "I promise you this, I can get you out."

I shake my head, my face nuzzling into his cupped hand. "It's too dangerous, Damon."

His thumb grazes my chin while his eyes blazed into mine. "He's not the dangerous one."

My breath hitches. "I'm not…"

He shakes his head. "You have more power than you think."

I move away from his touch. "Then let me help," I reply. "If you think you can get me out, let me help. You told me to hold on, I want to know why we have to wait."

He sighs, and groans as he gets out of his chair. His body still sore from the assault. He paces the room for before stopping to look at me and then continues to pace. "Klaus has a shipment arriving at Rusty Beach Port soon. I need to know when it's arriving and what's on the boat."

My eyebrows shoot up. This is why Klaus needed Damon, if Damon owns Rusty Beach, Klaus would need access to its port. "Why does Klaus need Rusty Beach Port? He uses ports up north all the time."

Damon stops, his hands grip the back of the chair he vacated, the muscular veins in his forearm bulge. "He's been having trouble with the authorities, but Rusty Beach is incorporated, and all of its elected officials are in my pocket. The night of the party, Klaus made a deal with the Secretary of Trade and Commerce and the Secretary of Treasury to allow Klaus's deliveries to go undetected."

"That gives him free reign to import and export whatever he wants," I conclude. "Rusty Beach Port is massive."

"Biggest port on the eastern seaboard."

There's still something that doesn't add up. "Why did you give him access?"

Damon's head drops. "I underestimated his connections."

What does that mean?

Seeing my confused reaction, Damon sits down and continues. "He found out information that I thought was classified. It made me weak."

Classified? That sounds official like it was coming from someone in law or law enforcement. Matt Donovan did say there was someone in place, could that someone be Damon? No, Damon shot Matt, but still… My eyes shift to his tattoo on his chest, my fingers absentmindedly trace the eagle and the trident. I remember seeing the symbol in a book once. "Navy SEAL."

"The only easy day was yesterday," Damon recites.

A light laugh escapes my lips. "The motto," I murmur, my eyes flick to his. "You strayed from your pack, Officer Salvatore."

Damon takes my fingers still touching his tattoo and flattens my hand with his so my fingers are splayed on his heart. I feel his heartbeat quicken, going a mile a minute. My chest heaves as my own heart speed up, matching his rhythm. My eyes gaze into his clear grey ones, his blazes through me, determined. "I never leave family behind."

I swallow, knowing I have to ask. "Are you FBI?"

He drops my hand, his eyes widen briefly and then they maintain the cool, guarded determined ones I'm growing used to. "I'm going to get you out of here," he replies. "I have the resources to get you out safely."

He's FBI.

I take a deep breath, deciding to tell him what I know. "Last month, Klaus imported half a ton of cocaine from Columbia. He used a port in Miami near Dodge Island. Then, using the same port, he exported something else. I missed the rest of the phone call," I explain, trying to remember all of the information I wrote down.

Damon's quiet, thinking. "Did he mention the name of the ship?"

I try to think back to Klaus's conversation. He was angry and distracted but I remember a reference to the devil, which I thought was weird. _"Were there problems unloading the Diablo?"_

"Diablo," I state.

"S.S. Diablo?"

I nod. "He asked if there were problems unloading it."

Damon's brow creases in concentration and then runs his hand through his hair, clearly irritated. "How did you find that out?"

I shrug. "Klaus thinks I'm stupid."

"Or he trusts you," he concludes.

I scoff. "He does not trust me."

Damon sits back, his eyes doing that thing where he roams my body, not to check me out but to try to track what I'm thinking. "There's a reason I thought you were with him," he explains. "The way you are with him and the way he talked about you…" he trails off as if recalling a memory. "When I first met with him, we were in his office and he said that you were in love with each other and wanted to start a family together. I thought it was consensual, an unconventional relationship, yes, but consensual. I _knew_ something was off at the party, but I had no idea how bad it was until I saw how he treated you yesterday."

I wish I could communicate how complicated it is with Klaus. I wish it were as easy as saying I hate him and be done with it, but I've been with Klaus for too long to not take any responsibility. "He saved me," I explain. Damon folds his arms over his chest and sits back, clearly not pleased with my statement. "He saved me," I repeat, trying to get him to understand. "I was on the streets, starving and probably a day away from being dead when he found me."

"He took you so he could abuse you and treat you like shit," Damon spits out.

I shake my head. "It's complicated."

"Are you actually defending him?" He inquires. "Seriously? Should I be worried that you're going to go back to him and rat me out?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "You think I'd do that after what you did for me?"

"I don't know you, Elena," he retorts, clearly irritated. "Of the two of us, I think he'd kill me before he ever kills you."

"Only because he sees me as a breeding cow," I snap, getting up to leave. "This was a bad idea."

Damon exhales heavily, regret laced with every breath that comes out of his body. He looks tired and defeated, bruises evident all over his body, the cut I stitched up barely noticeable, except I still remember the way his skin feels beneath my fingers. "Elena…"

But he's practically a stranger. Someone I've known for less than a week, a version of the boy I loved.

"You don't know me, remember? You don't get to say my name like that," I shout, before walking out the door, leaving my first aid kit behind. How dare he make assumptions about my life.

XXX

I wake up to Klaus flipping me over and groan. "Klaus," I whine, exhausted after a couple hours of sleep. He was still sleeping in the same position when I returned from Damon's room.

Klaus's fingers dance down my naked stomach. "Kitten," he coos. "My kitten."

I giggle, my body always ready to react to his command.

His hand slowly runs up and down my abdomen and then in circles.

"Tell me the real reason you want a baby so badly."

He hums and I don't know if he's going to answer, fuck me, or slap me. He doesn't look at me but gazes longingly at my stomach. "I want a family. Someone to teach how to ride a bike and fence. I'll give my child the best life with art lessons from the best artists in the world, it'll have the tutors from ivy league schools, it'll never want to leave me."

My eyebrows scrunch together, confused. "How will _our_ child feel about their mom being in a cage?"

Klaus's fingers graze up my stomach to my breasts. He lazily circles my nipple with his finger and then pinches. Hard.

Fuck.

"Klaus!" I yelp.

He chuckles. "Then don't do something that gets you sent to the cage."

I think about this for a moment. I always know I'll get the cage before it happens, it's never really a surprise, so I guess he does have a point. It's all the other unexpected times that are concerning, the random beatings, fuckings, blow jobs, I wonder if Klaus realizes those go away with a kid. Who'm I kidding, he'll still do it. No child is going to stop Klaus from bringing me to my knees.

This might be a good time to set things right. "I don't think Damon should guard me."

"Hmm? Why's that?"

I put on my most innocent face, my lips pout out a bit, and my eyes are cast down remorseful. "I didn't want to leave the cage, but he took me out. He pulled me out, I tried to fight him off, but I'm too weak."

Klaus nods. "Damon said as much last night."

"He took me from where you want me to be. Who knows what he'd do next? He's unpredictable and I don't think you can trust someone like that." I'm fibbing through my teeth, trying a little reverse psychology to make sure Klaus doesn't have some underhanded shit planned for me and Damon.

Klaus's head tilts, inspecting me. "You don't like him, do you?"

I shake my head. "He thinks he's better than you. He thinks he can fool you."

Klaus sweetly kisses me on the breast, just above my nipple. "Ahh, but kitten, he kept you safe and took your punishment, earning my trust."

"Kept me safe?"

"It was lightning and you could've been hurt. I was angry with you, but I know you'll never attempt to kill my baby again," he replies resolutely.

He's psycho and needs help. Or to be put down. And he's back to using _'my'_ not ' _our_ ', which means my time is limited.

I try not to let my disgust show and shake my head. "It will never happen again," I lie.

He kisses me on the breast and palms one of my boobs, getting out of bed. "I have to get going, kitten. Listen to Damon. I'll let you roam the grounds today."

I hold his hand, trying to pull him back. "Kitten…"

"Please."

"Come to my office later," he replies.

Fuck. Fucking fucking shit balls.

At least he's back to unsuspecting of my feelings. Life on the compound is just easier when Klaus is happy with me.

"What should I wear today?" I ask, only because it make him happy.

He walks to the walk-in closet and pulls out a sheer white silk sleeveless maxi dress with silver geometric designs embroidered all over.

"So you don't care that I'm spending all day with someone else in a see-through dress?" I respond indignantly, looking at the dress. It's beautiful but Klaus doesn't like me to wear underwear and without undergarments, it's indecent.

Klaus's mouth thins. "Who do you belong to?"

I sigh, realizing the lapse in judgment. Klaus isn't ready for me to be borderline opinionated with him yet. "You," I state.

"I don't mind if people look at what's mine, so long as they don't touch what's mine," he reminds me. "And it's not see through. If I want you in something see through, I'd have you wear nothing at all."

A reminder of the alternative. Klaus motions for me to follow him into the bathroom, meaning he's done talking with me but not done with me.

XXX

Once I'm dressed and my hair is blown out the way Klaus likes, straight as a pin down my back, I leave his room and see Damon waiting for me, and goddamn him, he looks unblemished except for faint purpling around the eye and his stitches. I know from first-hand experience that he's covering up most of the damage with a forest green Henley, that perfectly contrasts his eyes. He's still beautiful and still untouchable.

I see him take me in and I snap my fingers a few inches from his nose. "Eyes up here," I admonish, pointing to my brown irises.

Damon does, he looks into my eyes, flicking ever so subtly to my lips and then back to my eyes, leaning ever so slightly closer to my frame. I bite my lip. "That's not what I meant," I whisper, obviously affected.

His eyebrows shoot up and he steps back. "I find your eyes just as alluring as the rest of you."

I scoff. Doubtful. "Walk me to my room, Mr. Salvatore," I hold out the crook of my elbow. "Protect me from the fools who'd want to whisk me out of this place."

Damon ignores me and my elbow and walks forward, prompting me to follow. Jackass.

I follow Damon down the various halls, and for Damon's part, he does seem to play the part of look out for me, constantly peering around corners, his gun within arms reach.

When we make it to my room, I open the door and he acts like he's about to follow me in. He's been such a jackass, I block his path with my arm. "I think I've got it from here, Guardian Salvatore."

He nods in a very official manner as if last night never happened. "I'll be waiting outside your door."

My gaze questioningly searches him but he gives nothing away. "Okay then."

I walk into my room and shut the door, blocking him out. Damon's blood from the previous evening has been cleaned, but something is off and my mind travels to being bugged. Maybe that's why Klaus is okay with me being alone with Damon, he's having my room bugged, but that feels a little too unconventional for Klaus.

He doesn't care about what's recorded, only what he can see in front of him and I can't see him devoting manpower to listen to everything that goes on in my room, if for a second, Klaus doubted my loyalty, he'd kill me, as he would anyone else who even thought of betraying him. But it doesn't stop me from searching my room, underneath lampshades, in light fixtures, underneath my bed, and over every surface of my bathroom. It isn't until I lie down, exhaustion getting the better of me, that I feel something under my pillow.

My hand skims beneath the lilac cotton case and feels a box. I pull the box out and gasp, immediately holding it to my chest and looking around as if someone would be in here. Who'd go out of their way for me? Who'd risk their life to get me this?

My eyes gaze back down at the box. Yasmin birth control pills. It's just a pack, but it's something less to worry about for a month. I read the directions on the box and checking the time, I take my first pill. I know it won't work right away, but it lessens my chances of getting pregnant. Once I've taken my first pill, I crouch beneath my bed, pull the loose brick in the wall and place the pack next to the cell phone and notebook with information I've gathered about Klaus.

I'd show it to Damon, but I don't entirely trust him. I did a lot of thinking since I was in his room last night. Klaus has something on him and if Klaus has something on him, it makes him dangerous. Plus he's FBI and from experience, government officials are mainly power hunger jackholes, even if I knew Damon 8 years ago, a lot can happen.

There's a soft knock on the door. "Come in," I shout, curious.

Damon walks in, wearing an irritated expression. "An Elijah Mikaelson wants to see you."

My eyebrow quirks. "So you're my social secretary now?"

Damon looks down the hall both ways and steps in my room, closing the door behind him. He leans against the wall with one arm folded and the other stroking a five-o'clock shadow at 11:00 in the morning, just staring at me, thinking, like a predator before striking it's prey. Sitting with my legs crossed on the bed, I don't move an inch, unsure of what's about to come out of his mouth. "You're not going to see him."

My eyebrows pinch together. "And why should I listen to you?"

"Because Klaus ordered me to protect you, and I don't trust Elijah," he replies.

"So now you're taking orders from Klaus and telling me, once again, to not trust Elijah? Not to mention, you're FBI and I DO NOT trust the government," I argue. "You don't trust Klaus, you don't trust Elijah, but _I_ don't know if _I_ trust you. You may have taken my punishment, but you've given me no information except that you need to know what's being shipped to Rusty Beach Port and when."

Leaning against the wall, he just stares at me, a flex in the forearms of his folded arms.

I take a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter, looking Damon square in the eyes. "It takes one year to become a Navy SEAL and you have to sign a minimum of a three-year contract with them. You had to have been eighteen when you signed to be a SEAL, and you expect me to believe that in that time, you joined the FBI _and_ maintained control of Rusty Beach? Something doesn't add up."

Damon stands there, unfazed and I'm so irritated that I get up and walk out the door, walking toward Elijah's room. Elijah hasn't been to the compound in close to a year, so he must've reconciled with Klaus, which would explain Klaus's good mood this morning. Klaus would never admit to it, but he loves his family. It's his one redeeming quality.

I feel Damon pick up the pace behind me, prompting me to walk faster, until I feel his hand wrap around my wrist and tug me backward, toward him. With his overwhelming strength, he pushes me against the wall and boxes me in, one hand on my wrist, the other splayed on the wall above my head. His head dips low and he inhales deeply, an animalistic grown escaping his lips.

My head instinctively tilts to the side, prompting him to lower his head. Damon leans closer to me, his body almost flush with mine. I feel his lips on the shell of my ear. "You're not going to see Elijah," he demands, nipping my ear with his teeth.

I moan, my body wanting more but my brain wanting to knee him in the groin.

His tongue touches the sensitive part of my skin, just below my ear and he licks a trail to my clavicle. Without realizing what I'm doing, not caring who sees us in the hallway, I lean into him.

He lifts his head and leans it against mine, his eyes closed like he's chanting a silent prayer. "You're not leaving your room unless I say," he repeats the order, his husky voice sending a heated chill across my skin

His words reverberate in my head, ruining the moment. It was the wrong thing to say.

With all the force I can muster, I try to twist my hand out of his grasp, but it won't budge. "Let me go, Damon."

His body leans in closer, ignoring my plea, even though he does let go of my wrist, I'm still unable to move. "You're not going to Elijah."

I pause my fight, startling him. I will my eyes to look innocently at him, slightly cocking my head to the side. He stares at my trembling bottom lip, dumbfounded, worried I'd start to cry. The moment he takes a step back, unaware of what to do, I take the opportunity to lift up my right foot and slam it hard on his boot. He curses, dropping his hold on me, stepping further back. I dart through his arms and walk briskly to Elijah's room.

I hear Damon struggling to catch up as I reach Elijah's door and knock. Damon curses a few feet away from me as Elijah opens the door, wearing a pleased expression. "Elena Gilbert," he says by way of greeting, motioning for me to enter.

Damon makes to follow me in, but Elijah blocks him. "I think it's best if you guard Ms. Gilbert outside of my chambers."

I see the conflict in Damon's eyes, knowing he'd probably punch Elijah and haul me out of his room over his shoulders, but instead, he allows Elijah to close the door, knowing it'd cause more trouble and probably pull him further away from his goal, whatever it is.

Elijah motions for me to sit on an ivory couch in the sitting area. He brings over a tray of tea from the kitchen. I watch his long skilled fingers pick up the porcelain kettle and pour a cup for me and himself. He adds a touch of cream and sugar, while I take the cup to my lips and sip. Elijah brings tea from London whenever he visits.

The warm liquid soothes my stomach, I sigh, settling back into the couch, tucking my knees beneath my body. "Did you bring me a new book?"

Elijah grins, getting up out of his chair, he walks across the room and reaches into a bag. He pulls out a book and walks back to me. He hands me a thick book with a worn olive green color. I feel the weight of the novel in my hands, flipping open the novel and fanning through the pages, wafting that smell of libraries and summer. "Forever Amber?"

He sits next to me and nods. "I thought you might enjoy something a little different."

I read the book flap, the story of a girl who gets pregnant at sixteen and uses her wits to climb the social ladder of London during Charles II reign. What's Elijah trying to tell me? "You've never given me a romance before."

"I think you'll relate to Amber," he comments, I feel him studying my reaction as I read through the book flap for the second time.

"Because like Amber, Klaus picked me up on the streets of Mystic Falls, or because even though she whores herself out, she remains in love with someone she can never have?" I inquire.

Elijah usually tries to tell me something with every book he gives me. Sometimes it's simply to keep holding on. Other times, it's information on the world around me. What's the message from this book? Does Elijah think he's my unrequited love?

"She's strong, like you," he says. "And beautiful."

As Elijah moves closer, I divert him by placing the book on the coffee table and taking a sip of tea. "Thank you, Elijah."

"Did you think about what we discussed the night of the party?"

Damon gave me the information Elijah needs last night, Elijah's offer is certainly more tempting than Damon's, primarily because I believe Elijah has the resources to get me out, but he'll always be loyal to Klaus, which is concerning. "I did," I admit.

His hand rests on my thigh as he turns toward me to look me in the eyes. "And?"

"I already told you I'd do it, but I don't know if you need information on Damon anymore," I reply.

I feel the fabric of my dress bunch as his hand inches higher up. "What did my brother do?"

I allow his hand to comfortably rest where he'd like. I lean into him, knowing how to play this game. "Klaus has something on him, so he put Damon on guard duty."

Elijah takes a sip of his tea with his free hand and gazes at me, assessing the information I'm telling him. He doesn't seem surprised. "Klaus still needs him, otherwise he would've dealt with him by now."

As in shot. It's there in the subtext of his words.

"Did you discover anything about Damon?"

I hesitate for a fraction of a second and recover, leaning a little closer to Elijah. Elijah can't know how well I do know Damon. I choose the information to share very carefully. "Do you know anything about the SS Diablo?"

His eyes widen. "Did Damon mention the ship?"

I nod in affirmation. "I overheard him talking to Klaus."

Liar, liar. I was the one that overheard Klaus mention it.

"Elena," Elijah says, regarding me with a look reserved for when we're discussing current events. "Do you remember our discussion on Wilhelm Keppler?"

I take a sip of tea and think for a moment. "The Kodak Man?"

Elijah nods. "He tried to play both sides during World War Two, using slave labor from concentration camps to manufacture goods, but also selling secrets to the United States."

"He profited from war," I add.

"Can you think of what that has to do with Klaus? Think back to all of his meetings, the people at the senator's party, I know you pay more attention than you let on."

I cast my eyes down, thinking. Who was at the party? "Government officials," I reply.

"Which ones specifically?"

I think of all the men I met, there was one that propositioned me in front of Klaus. He was smug and said he had an open relationship with his wife. "The Secretary of Trade and Commerce?"

"Boyd Price," Elijah adds.

"But what does that have to do with profiteering?"

Elijah's hand moved further to the apex of my thigh. His long fingers tenderly stroke circles on the silk fabric above my sensitive flesh. I let out an audible moan. "Think, Elena," he prompts.

His controlled hands continue their ministrations as I try to think. Elijah is shipping something in a freighter ship but he'd need the okay to transport something that large. There were a lot of government officials at the party. It was a senator's birthday party, after all.

Klaus usually transports drugs, but if he aligned with the right people, if he could manage to gain enough power where he could manipulate and control people like a master puppeteer, I could see this being the next step for him.

"War," I conclude. "He's transporting military strength weapons on the Diablo, isn't he?"

Elijah nods.

Fuck. No wonder Klaus wants to move me to a fortress; he needs to be protected.

"I want to get you out," Elijah says. "But I need to know everything about Klaus's shipments. Who he's working with and where he's planning on striking."

"Don't you know?" Elijah is here, which means he's back in Klaus's good graces.

"Niklaus doesn't trust me, for good reason. He knows I want nothing more than to get him home and the only way to get him home is to stop whatever he's planning," Elijah's so close, he pulls me on his lap. He gently strokes the few locks of hair out of my face, gazing at me affectionately. It feels foreign and controlled. "He knows what I want," he confides meaningfully, cupping my chin so I'm looking in his eyes. "But he wants to keep me close because I'm an unknown variable he can't control."

My gaze falls on his perfect lips, remembering how soft they were. Elijah has always been nice and now, he's offering me the world for information. Information I'll have to sell my soul to get, but he and Damon are one in the same. Both using me to get to Klaus.

"What about Damon?"

Elijah scowls. "Klaus brought him on so quickly and held him in such a high regard that I assumed he was more important and knew about his latest schemes. Damon Salvatore has strong government contacts, especially foreign contacts. But…" Elijah trails off, thinking. "If he was willing to make him your guard it means that Klaus isn't ready to dispose of him yet."

I drew the same conclusion myself. "He needs him."

Damon told me that Klaus has control of Rusty Beach Port and he needed to know what was being shipped. Elijah essentially told me that Klaus is trying to start a war but he doesn't know with whom or when. If Klaus is trying to start a war, he won't do it right away. He's very calculated and very patient. He'd wait until everything aligned and had a solution for every problem he may encounter.

Elijah ran his hand up and down my arm while I ponder what I've found out in the last twenty-four hours. "How long has Klaus been planning this?"

Elijah shifts my body so he can look me in the eyes. "He's wanted to pull off something of this nature since he was a teenage boy, but I think he's still laying the groundwork for what he's trying to accomplish."

Since he was a boy. Was Klaus ever a boy? He acts as though he's been running his organization for multiple decades but he's always had family to keep him from going too far, until his latest fallout with Elijah. "You're here," I observe.

Elijah's hands fall around my waist. "I am."

"You and Klaus were in a fight and suddenly, you're at a birthday party and now you're back to living on the compound."

Elijah's thumbs press soothing circles in my back as he holds me steady on his lap. "I came to get what I want," he pauses, his hands drifting higher. "My brother needs to go home…and…"

He trails off, his head tilts to the side. "And?" I inquire as his gentle hand cups my face.

"I can get you out before this all goes down," he whispers. "I gave him some information that proved valuable. He's letting me stay and take care of his more legitimate businesses."

Elijah and Damon promised to get me out; what could be wrong with seeing who actually succeeds. They both need the same information, they need to know information about Klaus's plan. Klaus was likely to be keeping information about what was going on in the secure part of the compound; offices and his warehouse sealed behind steel doors that required an identification code, possibly even a fingerprint. Part of the reason Klaus wants Damon to guard me is to keep him out of those bounds.

The funny thing is, Elijah and Damon both know the same thing, they know I can figure out how to get in, they know I can get information because I already have a place to start sitting behind a loose brick in my room. I can't get out on my own, but Damon and Elijah can. I don't know if I trust either, so why not see who manages the impossible first?

"Elena," Elijah whispers, drawing me back to him. "I swear I can get you out. I swear it."

Worry must've been etched on my face. Klaus was about to go to war and here were two men asking me to help stop it. Well, Damon doesn't want me to help but I don't think he'd turn his nose down to information.

"Our deal stays the same," I confirm. "I don't want anyone knowing where I'm going."

Elijah seals his lips with mine; it's a sweet kiss but a knot twists in my stomach over who's on the other side of the door. Elijah doesn't notice my hesitation but gently pulls away. "You have my word only the people responsible for getting you to your destination safely will know."

I lift myself off of Elijah's lap, putting distance between us with the intention of taking another sip of tea. "Tell me everything you know, don't leave out a single detail."

Elijah nods, taking a sip of his own tea before sitting back with his legs crossed, ready to explain Klaus's plans for war.


End file.
